


Making A List and Checking It Twice

by blithelybonny



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Bathing/Washing, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kink Exploration, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Making Out, Masturbation, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Porn with some plot, Rimming, Semi-Public Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Subdrop, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 16:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8720467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny
Summary: ON HIATUS - WILL BE COMPLETED -- A life-changing event is headed Draco and Harry's way - what better way to celebrate than by checking a few things off the old sexual bucket list?





	1. Semi-Public Sex

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2016 25 Days of Draco and Harry Challenge on Livejournal.
> 
> This is mostly an excuse for Harry and Draco to bang in fun and creative ways. Each chapter will feature a different kink and will be clearly labeled at the outset so that you may skip it if it’s not one that particularly appeals to you. The plot is sort of incidental, so don’t feel like you’re going to miss out if you don’t read each one. :D Cheers all, and happy hols!
> 
> Story title is a lyric from “Santa Claus is Comin’ To Town” composed by Haven Gillespie and J. Fred Coots.
> 
> This chapter's featured kink is **semi-public sex**.

Draco Malfoy closed himself in the telephone box, lifted the receiver, and dialed 6-2-4-4-2. He followed the prompts as directed and waited as the box sunk down to deposit him in the Ministry Atrium. (He really was quite glad that the Ministry had reverted to the old entrance method -- he couldn’t imagine that anyone enjoyed being flushed down the toilet.) Then, with pep in his step, he hustled across the floor to check in with the Welcome Witch.

Not even the fact that visiting the Ministry of Magic still tended to give him agita was going to stop him from visiting his husband at work this morning because he had news that absolutely could not wait until Harry came home that evening.

“So that’s the DMLE then?” the girl asked, glancing up from his pass.

“That is what it indicates, yes, as always, Seraphina,” Draco replied, jaw tight with annoyance.

“Reporting a crime or summat?”

“Visiting,” he said crisply. Draco only barely resisted the urge to snatch back his wand and hex her. “As is also indicated on my pass.”

“Yeah,” she continued, “don’t usually see people reporting crimes directly to the Deputy Head.”

“No, I suspect not,” Draco seethed. He gripped the edge of the counter, tight and white-knuckled. She was just doing her job (albeit remarkably slowly), and he tried to remind himself of the fact that security was very important, particularly at his husband’s workplace, but honestly, couldn’t she tell that he had very, extremely important business to attend to?

Finally, after several agonizing moments, Seraphina handed him back his wand and said, “All right, wand’s weighed and pass is in order. Take the third lift from the right down to Level Two for the Auror Department.”

“Yes, thank you, I know where it is!” Draco couldn’t resist snapping.

Seraphina merely shrugged and indicated the lifts as if she hadn’t actually heard him. “Just over there, yeah,” she said.

Abruptly, before he did something he was absolutely going to regret, Draco took off for the lifts. He skidded into the correct unit just before the doors shut and practically punched the button for Level Two.

“In a hurry, are we, lad--oh!” said a portly gentleman in horrendously-bright orange robes.

Draco turned his head, watched as the recognition dawned in the man’s eyes, and saw the exact moment when he was going to henceforth be summarily ignored. It’d been over ten years since the war’s end, ten exactly since Draco’s community sentence was completed, and nearing ten years since he’d been openly and publically in love with the Savior of the Wizarding World, but strangers’ reactions to Draco Malfoy remained distressingly consistent. No matter how much philanthropy Draco engaged in, no matter how much time passed, it was likely that he was always going to be seen by those who didn’t know him as a former Death Eater first and a person second.

Happily, though, Draco had finally forgiven himself for the horrors he’d done as a child. His Wizengamot-ordered punishment had paved the way to a genuine interest in giving back to his community and helping it grow rather than seeking to hurt and destroy it. Also, love had gone a long way to helping him see his own worth and see the good he could do. He could, therefore, handle whatever this man had in store for him.

“You’re that Draco Malfoy.”

“Yes I am,” Draco answered.

As the man’s lip curled up in a sneer, Draco’s hand clenched in his pocket, tightening around the piece of parchment he’d stashed there instead of his wand, and immediately, the wariness and concern fled his expression to be replaced by pure joy. He grinned widely, his expression turning inward as he thought about the look on Harry’s face when Draco gave him the news.

“What d’you think you’re smiling at?”

The lift doors opened before Draco could respond, and so he just grinned at the man as he exited. “Happy Christmas to you, sir!” Draco then called back, giving a jaunty wave and then a flip of two fingers, and turned on his heel to march down the hallway towards Harry’s office.

Level Two was much friendlier to Draco than the Ministry proper, and he received and returned a few casual greetings and waves as he passed through the bullpen. He was single-minded in his focus, though. All the petty annoyances of the last half-hour had melted away, and all that mattered was to get to Harry to tell him that what they’d been waiting for had finally happened.

“Hiya Mr. M!” greeted Jarvis Whitcomb, Harry’s personal assistant, when Draco finally reached Harry’s office. “You just missed him, I’m afraid.”

“Harry’s left?” Draco asked, thoroughly disappointed. “I had thought that being the bloody Deputy Head meant much less time in the field.”

“Oh! No, no, sir,” Jarvis cried, “he’s just off to the conference room for the weekly debrief meeting. Starts in about twenty minutes.”

“Brilliant, Jarvis, you are a human delight and do not let anyone ever tell you otherwise!”

Draco called the last of it over his shoulder as he dashed away from the office and over to the conference room he knew to be four doors down the hallway from a very memorable holiday party two years ago. He opened the door and found Harry at the front of the large, square room, switching parchments from one folder to another and muttering to himself.

They’d been married for five years now, but (as embarrassingly mushy as it was to admit) Draco still felt a giddy swoop in his stomach whenever he set eyes on Harry Potter. They’d worked extremely hard, fought like kneazles and crups, and had overcome so much to get to a point where they loved and trusted one another and were ridiculously happy and madly in love with each other, and it was perhaps why Draco still got flutterbys to this day.

That, or the fact that his husband was still stupidly, unfairly handsome and looked especially delicious in his uniform.

“Isn’t this exactly the sort of thing that your assistant is supposed to handle?” Draco drawled, leaning casually against the doorframe and folding his arms across his chest.

Harry looked up, caught by surprise, and then shook his head, chuckling a little. “He’s trying at least,” he said, indicating the folders.

“Trying your patience?”

“Exactly,” Harry laughed. Draco walked over and rested his hands on Harry’s shoulders. Harry tilted his head back to look at Draco upside-down. “I’m almost positive he’s trying to kill me by sheer incompetence.”

Draco hummed in agreement and said, “This bird’s nest of yours has got much greyer since you hired him.” He traced his fingers through the silvery strands at Harry’s temples and then dragged gently along his scalp when Harry moaned softly and tipped his head forward for more. “You could do with a trim again, too,” he added, in a softer tone.

“I’ll go see Pfefferman at lunch,” Harry promised.

Draco rolled his eyes. “You will not. You’ll get caught up in something or other like you always do.”

Harry shrugged. “Most likely. Now,” he said, spinning around in his chair and knocking Draco back a few paces, “what brings you to the office? Not that I don’t mind seeing you, of course, but I’ve got a meeting in a few.”

Draco tried to school his expression to one of blank coolness, wanting to surprise Harry, but when he thought even for a second about the news, the grin came right back to his face. “We got an Owl this morning,” he then said, as he reached out to grab Harry by the shoulders again and carefully straddled his lap.

Harry wrapped his arms around Draco’s waist, holding him safely in place. “An Owl, you say? And what on earth could be so important that you dragged yourself down here to--” Harry cut himself abruptly. His eyes lit up and his hands tightened at Draco’s hips. “Malfoy?” he whispered, hopeful.

Suddenly overcome, Draco couldn’t find the words that had been tumbling around his head since he read the letter, so he simply nodded.

“We’re getting a baby?”

“We’re getting a baby,” Draco repeated, nodding again. His cheeks hurt from grinning so widely, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t remember ever having been this happy, and seeing the excitement and joy in Harry’s bright green eyes only made him the happier.

They’d applied through an agency nearly two years ago and had been warned that, however progressive things had become over the last couple of years, adoption for queer couples still wasn’t exactly the highest priority, even for a celebrity like Potter was. But they hadn’t given up, had fought for their rights, and had waited patiently to start their little family. And the day had finally come--well, it _would_ come in a couple months.

“The mother’s name is--mmph!” Draco was cut off from his explanation by Harry capturing his lips in a fervent kiss, which quickly grew syrupy and sensual. Slipping past the seam of Draco’s mouth, Harry’s tongue slid and curled over Draco’s own. Harry began, unconsciously no doubt, shifting his hips, grinding up against Draco. Draco whimpered and, under the acute protest of his now quite interested cock, pulled back just enough to talk to Harry again. “Don’t you want to hear the details?” he panted, their breath mingling in the small space between them. 

“Later,” Harry answered. “Right now I just want to celebrate the fact that we’re going to have a baby.”

“In February,” Draco couldn’t resist putting in. “We’re going to have a baby in February.”

“In February,” Harry echoed, lips pulling up in a huge grin again. “Now can I please kiss you again?”

Draco chuckled as he pressed forward again, kissing Harry again. This, too, had yet to grow stale between them. After years of being together, each kiss still felt like a surprise. Though they knew each other intimately, there was always something still to learn. 

After a long few moments of passionate making out, Harry was the one to pull back. He smoothed his hands over Draco’s hair as he struggled to regain control of himself. “Bloody hell,” he sighed, “I wish I could take the day off. I just want to go home with you.”

“That would be very, very nice indeed,” Draco said, rolling his hips playfully and drawing a groan from Harry, who tipped his head forward to rest on Draco’s shoulder. Draco continued to grind his hips, feeling Harry’s interest rise and his breathing pick up speed once again. “You know, we could celebrate a little more right now...”

Harry lifted his head at that, eyes wide. “But the meeting starts in fifteen minutes. My team’ll be here soon,” he explained.

Draco smirked at him. “Well, then we’d better be quick, hm?” he asked before sliding gracefully off Harry’s lap onto his knees between Harry’s thighs.

“Fuck, Malfoy,” Harry cursed. One hand came out immediately to slide through Draco’s hair, anchoring himself. With the other, he impatiently flicked flicked his fingers, wandlessly shutting the conference room door.

Draco quickly reached up to catch his hand and whispered, “Don’t lock it.”

“But--”

“I said, _don’t lock it_ ,” Draco interrupted. He kept his eyes firmly on Harry’s own, even as he reached through the cut of Harry’s robes and started unlacing Harry’s flies.

Harry let out a strangled noise that resolved into what sort of sounded like _fuck yes please_. Draco grinned as he continued to stare up at Harry, watching with obvious pleasure as dark pupil eclipsed the green in Harry’s eyes. He knew how much Harry secretly loved the idea of possibly being walked in on _in flagrante delicto_. It appealed to his sense of danger, of risk. Harry might not ever have gone looking for trouble, but he seemed to love when it found him.

Knowing now, though, that time was of the essence, Draco abandoned the tease and made quick work of getting Harry’s cock out, merely pulling it through the hole in Harry’s boxers rather than getting him out of his kit entirely.

“Merlin, I love you so much,” Harry exhaled, slurring the words together. He’d been half-hard already from their kissing and grinding, and it took Draco only a few firm strokes to get Harry nice and ready for him.

Fuck, but Harry was mouth-watering. Draco had been entirely unsurprised to find that Harry Potter had a great cock. It was of slightly above-average length and deliciously thick. Draco absolutely adored sucking him off, even and especially when they played at Draco Dominating Harry in the bedroom. Ordering Harry to hold off coming as Draco teased and toyed and sucked him until he could hardly stand it any longer was easily one of Draco’s favorite scenes.

“Want my mouth?” Draco asked in a low tone, his lips hovering over the now-dripping head of Harry’s cock. “Or my hand?” He punctuated the second question with another slow, tight stroke from base to crown.

Harry whimpered, but glanced back at the door. They had maybe ten minutes before someone inevitably walked in on them, which seemed to decide for him. “Your mouth. Please,” he quietly begged.

Draco immediately plunged forward, swallowing Harry to the root. Harry stifled his cry by stuffing a fist into his mouth, as Draco took up a punishing pace, using every trick he possessed to get Harry to come quickly. He drew back along the length of Harry’s cock, dragging his tongue hard against Harry’s skin. He swallowed when he reached the hilt, pulling Harry into his mouth just that much further.

Harry moaned around his fist, he wriggled and jerked his hips up, practically fucking Draco’s face. And Draco absolutely loved it every second of it. He loved that he could make Harry feel this way -- loved that Harry trusted him so much that he was willing to give himself over to this with abandon, no matter that they had hardly any time or that someone could come in and see it.

“Malfoy, I’m going to-- I’m gonna--nnnghnnnhah!”

Draco got a hand around Harry’s cock and pumped it, working him through the orgasm, as he sucked and swallowed Harry’s release. When Harry’s hips stopped thrusting upward after a long moment, Draco pulled back and continued to jerk him gently, riding out the very last of it. “That’s good, you did so well, love.”

Harry shivered with the praise, before thrusting his hand down to stop Draco’s movements. “Too much...good, but too much,” he said, words thick and syrupy with bliss.

“And just in time, I’d wager,” Draco said, quirking his eyebrows up.

“What?”

The door opened suddenly, and Jarvis walked in, followed by a couple junior Aurors. Harry found the presence of mind to whirl around in his chair and shove it under the tabletop to hide that his cock was still out. Jarvis, however, froze when he saw Draco still there on his knees. “Um, sorry, are we...early?”

“Not at all,” Draco said, as he rose creakily (damn, he was getting old!). He then wiped his thumb over his bottom lip and added, with a cheeky smile, “My husband’s shoe was untied.”

Harry groaned loudly and dropped his head to the table with an audible thunk.

Jarvis’s cheeks darkened and he dropped his gaze to the floor. The two junior Aurors exchanged knowing glances.

Draco just smiled, having not a care in the world. At the end of the day, they didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that he and his husband were going to be parents. Draco looked forward to celebrating that fact even more when Harry got home.


	2. Voyeurism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry deals with the aftermath of his and Draco’s office adventures, then gets distracted with mushy feels about his husband, and then gets even more distracted by his husband at home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured kink is **voyeurism**.

“Good night Mr. Potter,” said Jarvis, who kept his eyes very firmly on floor.

Harry sighed and dragged a hand through his hair for the umpteenth time since that morning. Every interaction with his assistant since he’d been quite literally caught with his trousers down had been awkward and stilted, and he knew that if he didn’t nip it in the bud right now, he was probably going to regret it for the rest of their shared tenure. “Hang on a mo, Jarvis, would you?” Harry asked, gesturing to the ugly, but comfortable maroon chair in front of his desk.

Jarvis audibly gulped and looked pained, but he then seemed to steel himself and took the offered seat. He placed his hands on the edge of the desk and leaned forward a bit. “Before you say anything, sir,” he began, “I just want to let you know that I’ve very much enjoyed working for you and that my personal regard for you won’t change in the slightest.”

“That’s, erm, nice to hear--wait, what?” Confused, Harry sat back a bit in his chair. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re sacking me, aren’t you, sir?” Jarvis replied, now looking down dejectedly at his lap.

Harry let out a startled laugh that drew Jarvis’s attention back up. “Sacking you? Why on earth would I sack you?” he asked, still laughing.

“Because of earlier? When your, er, your husband was here? And I should’ve, erm, I shouldn’t have let the others into the meeting?” Each statement was more like a question, all the ends drifting upward, and by the end of it, Jarvis’s voice was nearly an octave higher than normal. His cheeks had darkened with embarrassment, and his hands gripped the desk harder now, paling a bit at the knuckles. “I’m so, so sorry, sir.”

Oddly enough, Harry’s own embarrassment about the situation seemed to melt away in the face of Jarvis’s. It seemed that the potential threat of losing his job had been why Jarvis had been so uncomfortable all day, rather than because he’d caught his boss having sex in the office. (Or caught his boss in the _aftermath_ of having sex in the office anyway -- thankfully, there hadn’t been any unfortunate eyefuls.) Sobering, Harry sat forward again, resting his elbows on the desk and steepling his fingers beneath his chin. “Please don’t apologize,” he said. “If anything, I’m the one that should be apologizing to you. I was the one who was inappropriate.”

“No! Sir, please, you were just…” Jarvis trailed off for a second, gesturing in an absent circle with his hand as he tried to find the words, “blowing off a bit of steam? Merlin, I mean, not _blowing_! Oh, buggering hell.” He dropped his chin to his chest, defeated.

Harry couldn’t help laughing again. “Well put,” he dead-panned.

Jarvis cautiously looked up. “You’re really not going to sack me?” he asked, hopeful.

“Of course not. Well,” Harry paused and considered, before smiling, “if I was going to sack you for something you did today, it’d be the fact that the folders for the meeting were all completely out of order.”

“Bollocks.”

“But, honestly, Jarvis, I’m not going to sack you,” Harry hastened to add. “Mistakes happen all around, am I right?”

“Right, right, of course you’re right,” Jarvis answered. He let out a sigh, and some of the tension relaxed from his shoulders.

“So we’re good then?”

“Yes, Mr Potter, absolutely, we’re good!” Jarvis replied, grinning. “Hell, my girl and me had it off on my desk a couple weeks ago when you lot were on that raid and--oh bloody humdingers, I should not have said that!”

Harry groaned and rolled his eyes. “Tell you what,” he pleaded, “how about I forget what you just said, and you forget what happened earlier, and we’ll call it square.”

Jarvis nodded aggressively. “Sounds perfect, sir, absolutely yes. In fact, honestly sir, I have no idea what on earth you’re talking about, and I will see you in the morning!” He rose from his seat then and, with a grateful grin, stuck his head out across the desk.

Harry took it and shook hands firmly once. “Have a good night, Jarvis,” he offered.

“Will do, Mr Potter,” Jarvis said, as he got up from the chair to exit the office, calling over his shoulder on the way out, “and you as well!”

Shaking his head in amusement, Harry turned back to the last of the reports he needed to review, muttering, “Suppose it could have been much worse.”

His attention span for the work deserted him, however, after only a few more paragraphs of Auror Mendelsohn’s atrocious penmanship, and he found himself smiling absently and staring at the photo of himself and Draco that sat on the corner of his desk. It was taken the night of their first real date, and it remained one of Harry’s favorite photos, as it commemorated one of the best nights of Harry’s life.

During Draco’s community payback sentence, Harry had learned just how fun and funny Draco could be when he wasn’t overcompensating for his insecurity with sneering rudeness and bullying. Harry, of course, had been participating in the charitable work voluntarily, while Draco had been required to complete a set number of hours, but as the time went on, Harry saw just how much Draco seemed to enjoy it. He would catch Draco smiling after spending an hour telling stories to the children of the pediatrics ward at St Mungo’s or after organizing care packages for some of the down-and-outs of Knockturn Alley, and when he commented on it, Draco would shrug and try to play it off as nothing without much success. Charitable work, as it turned out, suited Draco Malfoy beautifully.

The time spent together also increased Harry’s awareness of how unfairly attractive Draco was, especially when he was smiling and not struggling under the weight of his ignorance and fear. Luckily for Harry, Draco had experienced a very similar reaction to seeing Harry in a new light, and when Harry’d decided that he might just as well ask Draco on a date, Draco had accepted with a cheeky “ _and I had thought Gryffindors had more courage than that--I thought you’d never ask!_ ”

They’d done a couple pub nights with friends and a meal together before Harry decided that Draco deserved a proper date--something fun and exciting and different. After they finished dinner and drinks, Harry, not wanting the night to end yet, suggested a late-night broom flight over London, and Draco had lit up like a child being presented with a gift at the prospect. “ _I’ll race you to midnight,_ ” he’d said.

“ _Challenge accepted,_ ” Harry’d replied. They sealed it with a handshake, which Draco turned into a swift peck of a kiss on the tip of Harry’s nose. “ _Meet you on the bridge in an hour,_ ” he’d said before stepping back and Disapparating on the spot.

An hour later, they’d met as promised and raced from Tower Bridge to the top of Big Ben. Harry beat Draco by a nose, as he often did, and Draco complained about Harry cheating as they flew at a leisurely pace all the way back down.

“ _All I’m saying,_ ” Draco’d said, as they touched down on the bridge again, “ _is that it’s patently unfair of you to have beaten me. I ask for so bloody little in this world._ ”

Instead of answering, Harry’d simply drawn Draco into an embrace and kissed him, feeling the same swooping sensation in his stomach. “ _You make me feel like I’m still flying,_ ” Harry’d murmured against Draco’s lips.

“ _Merlin, Potter, you absolute sap,_ ” Draco’d replied, so fondly that it almost made Harry’s teeth hurt.

Draco’d pulled out a camera then and set it up on an automatic charm. The photo caught the exact moment that they’d had their second real kiss. Harry’d had it framed right after Draco’d sent him a copy, and it had sat on his desk ever since. Merlin, that was almost ten years ago.

Pulling himself out of his memories, Harry decided that the remainder could wait until morning. Draco was probably waiting for him to celebrate their good news some more. So he quickly packed everything up, locked his office behind him, and headed straight for the lifts and the Ministry Floo.

Harry arrived home in a whirl of robes, which he promptly ditched on the floor of the sitting room, leaving him in just his trousers and undershirt. “Draco?” he called, as he headed for the kitchen. “Draco, where are you?”

After searching the entirety of the first floor and receiving no answer nor seeing a sign that Draco was home, Harry frowned to himself. He supposed it was possible that Draco hadn’t been in the mood to cook, so he’d gone to pick up some takeaway. It was probably for the best, honestly, as Harry realized he probably could have used a moment to freshen up. So he Summoned his robes and then jogged upstairs to their bedroom door, which was slightly ajar.

“Enjoying the view, Potter?”

Harry’s mouth went dry at the sight that greeted him when he walked inside. Draco was laid out on the bed wearing one of Harry’s most comfortable Weasley jumpers and nothing else. One hand was wrapped about one of the slats in the headboard, and the other moved steadily down Draco’s chest, tracing over the navy-blue H and pausing just below the jumper’s hemline. His cock was flushed and hard, curving up as if it wanted to jump into Draco’s hand, but Draco only teased himself, tracing his fingers slowly back and forth along the flat plane of his lower abdomen.

“What are you, hyunh--” Harry cut off on a strangled noise in the back of his throat, when Draco thrusted his hips upward just once, making his cock bounce.

“I got tired of waiting for you to come home,” Draco purred. “You had me all worked up from this morning, and I thought maybe you’d come take care of me at lunch, but instead I was left all to my very own devices all - day - long.”

“I h-had a lot of w-work to get done,” Harry stammered. He stared, mesmerized, at Draco’s free hand as it started to dip downward again. Draco then wrapped his hand around his cock, but with his fingers flush against his pelvis rather than around the shaft itself so that it stood straight up, practically begging for Harry to go over and sit on it. “Ohhh, fuck me.”

“Later, possibly, if I’m feeling generous,” Draco replied haughtily. “Now...hands behind your back. No touching.”

Harry groaned. “But Draco, I--”

“--I said, hands behind your back, Potter,” Draco cut him off, voice lowering to a soft, hungry growl. “I’ll not repeat myself again.”

A shiver wracked Harry at Draco’s tone. Draco’s orders always _did things_ to Harry, and while they didn’t always play with the dynamics, Harry always appreciated it when Draco was in the mood to start a scene. “Yes sir,” he then whispered, keeping his eyes locked on Draco’s, as he deliberately crossed his hands behind his back.

If it was even possible, Draco’s arousal became even more obvious, as his lips curved up in a smirk that seamlessly changed into a cat-like smile. “There’s my good boy,” he said. “Now, you’re going to stand there and you’re just going to watch me take my pleasure, aren’t you?”

Harry whimpered, “Yes, fuck, yes, I’ll watch. I’ll be good, I promise.”

“Of course you will, Potter,” Draco replied. “Because you’re always so very good to me.” He then wandlessly and wordlessly cast a _Lubricus_ on his occupied hand--Harry could hear the telltale squelch--and gave himself one long, firm stroke, coating his cock with lubricant. Draco’d always preferred a wet wank to a dry one, and when he took his hand away, his cock glistened with it.

Harry only barely resisted the pressing need to adjust himself. Fuck, he wished he’d just stripped down entirely instead of just taking off his robes. His rapidly hardening cock felt trapped, and he couldn’t do anything about it!

“How should I do this, Potter?” Draco breathed, as his hips twitched upward again, thrusting the air. “Should I take my time and go nice and slow, or should I hurry?”

Harry was not actually expected to answer, because he was not expressly directed to speak. He breathed in and exhaled hard through his nose. His feet also wanted to carry him forward, but he couldn’t disobey for fear that Draco would stop.

“So very good for me, aren’t you,” Draco muttered, almost more to himself than to Harry. “I should reward you for being so good. I won’t make my poor boy suffer.”

He then wrapped his fingers back around his cock and began to stroke himself firmly, with a slight twist of his wrist when he reached the head.

It was such a familiar motion -- Draco liked what he liked -- and if he imagined hard enough, Harry thought that he could feel it on his own cock. The firmness of the pull, the cool, slick lube, and that perfect twist that switched up the sensation on the most sensitive part.

“Eyes on me, Harry. Watch,” Draco ordered again. Harry’s eyes flew back open; he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them. He let out a soft whine, as if to apologize, but Draco just shook his head. “It’s all right, love, just keep your eyes on me.”

Draco fisted his cock now, thrusting his hips up into the tight ring of his fingers, fucking so hard that Harry could hear the little hollow sound he made. Harry kept his eyes perfectly focused on Draco--although, honestly, he didn’t think he could look away even if he tried. Draco was a bloody vision.

“That’s it, eyes - on - _me_ ,” Draco shouted, as he came hard, letting his hand fall away from his cock and just continuing to thrust his hips up. He shot up, come streaking over the jumper.

Harry’s hips jerked forward a little in sympathy, as he moaned, “Fuck, Malfoy, please!” He wanted so badly to move his hands, to relieve at least a little of the pressure building in his groin, but more than that, he wanted to be good.

“I wonder,” Draco panted, as he came down from the heights of his orgasm, “if you could come just from watching me. I wonder if you’re that good.”

And the thing was, Harry thought that honestly he might be able. Draco looked so hot all laid out like an offering for him, all acres of smooth skin sheened with sweat from his exertion. And he was all Harry’s. Draco had given himself up to Harry--theirs was a bond that was built to last, and it was a bond that could only grow stronger as they expanded their family.

His cock flagged then, not from a lack of desire for Draco, but from the sudden and overwhelming feeling of warmth that flooded him upon remembering just exactly why they were so all over each other today. They were going to be parents soon; it was something they’d wanted for a while, and now it was wholly within reach.

“Draco, I…” Harry trailed off, a little embarrassed by his reaction. His arousal faded a bit more, and he ducked his head, not wanting Draco to be offended by his inability to continue the scene.

“Oh, Potter.” Draco was up off the bed with haste, tugging Harry into his arms and sliding one hand into the short hair at the back of Harry’s neck.

“I’m sorry, Draco, I just...I can’t…”

“That’s okay, sweetheart,” Draco said softly. “It’s okay. Maybe some other time we’ll try, all right? Don’t you worry. You did so very well for me.”

Harry leaned into Draco, just breathing softly and concentrating on the feel of Draco’s fingers in his hair until his erection fully subsided. “I’m sorry, love, I just,” Harry tried again, “got a bit overwhelmed, I think.”

“Not to worry,” Draco replied. He then pulled back and gave Harry a cheeky grin. “We can always try again after supper.”

Harry groaned out a laugh. “You’ll be the death of me one day.”

“Most likely, yes. So how’s Jarvis, by the by?” Draco then asked, as he lazily Summoned his pants from across the room. He slipped into them easily, but made no further move to put any more clothes on.

Harry shrugged. “Not sacked, which is what he thought was going to happen.”

“Poor bugger,” Draco replied, sounding not at all sympathetic.

“We should probably institute a rule, though. No more sex at the office,” Harry said with a stern glare, although its effectiveness may have been tempered by the fact that he didn’t actually mean it.

“Oh pish.”

“I mean it,” he lied. “Or at the very least, we’ve got to be more careful about being caught.”

“Careful, schmareful,” Draco replied dismissively. “We’ve got two whole months before we have to start being _careful_ about having sex out in the open.”

Harry scoffed. “Two months? How do you figure--oh! Oh…” He trailed off, and his lips curved up into a genuine smile. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. We don’t want to scar the poor thing too early.”

“Scarring the poor thing early worked out fairly well for you, didn’t it?” Draco teased.

“You’re horrid.”

“You love me.”

Harry slid his arms around Draco’s waist and tugged him into a full-body hug. “I really do, you know,” he said quietly into the side of Draco’s neck, as Draco melted against him.

“I know,” Draco sighed. “And I still can’t quite believe my luck there.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it,” Harry replied. “You earned it.”

“Yes,” Draco said, “I did.”


	3. Dirty Talk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco and Harry attend a party, and Draco can’t keep his hands to himself. Like ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured kink is **dirty talk**.

Draco idly traced the rim of his wine glass as he waited for Harry to return to their table. It’d be a while, no doubt, as Harry’s popularity seemed likely never to diminish no matter how far into the past his most famous deed faded or that he’d ever-so-scandalously married a former Death Eater and over half the crowded tavern likely wanted to have a drink and engage him in conversation. Harry, for his part, obliged them as much as he was able--though after one pub night a few years ago, Draco’d had to put a moratorium on letting people insist on buying drinks after Harry had completely ruined a really lovely and really expensive pair of black dragon-hide boots…

The Three Broomsticks was especially crowded this evening, as it was both the last Hogsmeade weekend before winter break for Hogwarts students and an engagement party for Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott--the latter of which brought Draco and Harry out to Hogsmeade for the evening, when Draco would much rather have enjoyed a quiet evening in. The inn carried far less than pleasant memories for Draco, and although he had apologized to Madam Rosmerta and assisted her with rebuilding some of the damage during his service, he was never going to forget the abominable way he’d behaved during his Sixth Year and the damage he’d done to an innocent.

Still, he was here, and he continued to move forward, working to grow rather than to destroy. And growth certainly included a night out in Hogsmeade with Harry’s nearest and dearest.

“Has he abandoned you already?”

Draco turned back to the table at the familiar voice. He rolled his eyes and gestured to the seat opposite him, as he said, “My husband hasn’t _abandoned_ me. He’s just annoyingly affable and couldn’t refuse someone a few minutes of his time even if his bloody hair was on fire.”

Blaise Zabini gave an elegant, disinterested shrug, as if the conversation already bored him, and took the offered seat. “Sounds accurate,” he replied.

As if she merely had been waiting for someone to join Draco, a server appeared at the table with her pad ready. “Anything for the gentleman?” she asked, addressing Blaise.

“Lagavulin, neat, with two drops of distilled spring water,” Blaise replied and then gestured at Draco’s nearly-empty glass, “and another glass of whatever swill Draco’s drinking.”

Draco had to bite down on his lower lip to keep from laughing aloud at the way the poor girl’s mouth twitched with the urge to, no doubt, say something nasty. “This was the house red, please and thank you,” he then said, when she turned to him expectantly.

“House red, Draco, really?” Blaise scoffed.

“Right, that’s scotch and a glass of red. I’ll be right back,” the server said before she turned quickly and headed to the bar to fetch their drinks.

“Instead of spring water, you’re going to get spit,” Draco said to Blaise, who kept his eyes on the server, “and you’ll absolutely deserve it.”

Blaise waved a hand dismissively and then reached out with it for Draco’s glass. “Bethany knows better than that, and she would have called me on my nonsense if you weren’t” he paused to taste Draco’s wine, “Merlin’s teats, this is disgusting! It tastes like...like cherry vinegar!”

“Oh, it does not! It’s perfectly fine,” Draco replied, wresting the glass back from Blaise and draining the last of it.

“I know I’ve said many times in the past that married life agrees with you, but I take it all back. You’ve changed far too much. Potter’s turned you into some sort of...I don’t know, a--”

“--a normal person?” Draco asked.

“Certainly less of a prize git, anyway.”

Both Blaise and Draco glanced up to find Ginny Weasley stood there with her hands on her hips and a saucy smirk on her lips. “Hasn’t anybody ever told you that eavesdropping is rude?” Blaise then asked her, drawling so poshly it was a wonder he didn’t fall off his chair with the effort.

“It’s come up once or twice,” Ginny answered airily. “Now one of you budge up so I can sit down.”

“I should have left you at home,” Blaise replied, as he slid a little further into the booth to make room for his heavily-pregnant wife. The fondness in his tone belied his words, as did the way he easily lifted his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders, pulling her in as much as he could.

“As if you could’ve stopped me coming,” she said, with a roll of her eyes.

Blaise pressed a kiss to her temple and said, “So very true, my beautiful and stubborn goddess.”

“You forgot ‘fierce,’” she replied, before turning her head to capture his lips in a soft kiss instead.

“How could I ever forget?” Blaise murmured against her lips.

Draco hid his smile behind his hand, as he wondered if he and Harry were as nauseatingly in love when they were out in public. Undoubtedly so. It was surprising what being comfortable in one’s own skin did for their confidence out in the world. While there were certainly many things that he and Harry kept private about their relationship, their obvious and easy affection for one another was definitely not one of them. After all, they’d worked hard to overcome their boyhood animosity; why shouldn’t they get to show off the fruits of their labor every now and again? And it just made Draco feel good--it was part of what being in a healthy relationship was all about.

“Where’s your other third?” Draco then asked, before their momentary love-fest could turn back to their standard loveable bickering.

“I left her chatting with Harry and that odd bloke from Measurements and Standards,” Ginny said, gesturing vaguely out amongst the crowd. “I think she was attempting to save Harry from boredom, but ended up furthering the conversation instead.”

“Such an odd duck, our Luna,” Blaise added, with a faraway smile.

Ginny smiled too and then rested a hand on her abdomen. “We’ll be lucky as hell if this one turns out even half as lovely,” she added.

“And speaking of…”

Draco turned to see that Harry was finally making his way through the crowd back to the booth. He was, unfortunately, Luna Lovegood-less, however, and had a sheepish expression on his face. “Don’t tell me you just left her there?” he asked, chuckling.

“I tried!” Harry exclaimed, gesturing back towards where he’d come from. “I kept hinting that you all were waiting for her, but she just kept encouraging Magnus to go on!”

“Some Chosen One you are,” Blaise said, as he bumped against Ginny’s hip, encouraging her to get up out of the booth again. “Come on, my love, as usual, it’s up to us to save our girl from being entirely too nice.”

“But I just sat down!”

“I thought I saw your brother and sister-in-law at another table near the front. You can sit there while I play the hero,” Blaise explained.

Ginny’s eyes narrowed, as she pulled herself up out of the booth and then straightened to her full height (which still only came up to Blaise’s mid-chest). “Oh no you don’t, Blaise Zabini, I will march right over there my bloody self and have a word with Mr ‘This Cauldron’s Too Big for That Potion’ and _you_ can go and have a chat with Ron and Hermione…”

Draco and Harry watched them both go, Blaise following after Ginny, who was easily making her way through the crowd, and then Harry sighed out a laugh and slid into the booth across the table from Draco. “Our kid’s going to have one hell of a cousin in that one,” he said happily.

“You’re not wrong there,” Draco replied. He could honestly only imagine what a child raised by Blaise, Ginny, and Luna would turn out like--but that child would certainly be interesting.

As if he’d heard what Draco was thinking, Harry started to ask, “What do you think our--”

He was interrupted by the return of Bethany with Draco’s and Blaise’s drinks. “Here you are, the house red and, oh, but...where’d Blaise get off to?” she asked, holding the ever so pretentious tumbler of scotch.

“Don’t worry about it, Beth,” Harry said, “I’ll drink it.”

She flushed slightly and said, “No, er, that’s all right. I’ll just, erm, get you a fresh pint Mr Potter,” and before he could protest, she scurried back to the bar.

Draco burst out laughing, unable to explain even when Harry tried to press him for what had just happened.

“Fine, fine, keep your bloody secrets,” Harry said, after a long moment of just watching, bewildered, as Draco laughed himself half to death.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head,” Draco replied, as he reached up to wipe a stray tear away from the corner of his eye.

“You’re the absolute worst.”

“Surely not the _absolute_ worst.” Draco scooted over in the booth a bit so that he was pressed up next to Harry and able to murmur into his ear. “Surely there are others,” he continued, “more suited than me for that dubious honor.”

“Fine, you’re not the absolute worst, but you are, ah--ahh, fuck!” Harry cried out softly as Draco sucked his earlobe into his mouth and then gently scraped his teeth over it. “Okay, you’re not the absolute worst, but you are decidedly the most insatiable!” he managed to get out.

“I’ll admit my guilt there,” Draco replied, with a low, throaty chuckle, as he reluctantly pulled back a bit.

Harry wasn’t wrong, though, honestly. Draco wasn’t sure exactly what had come over him in the last week, but lately he just couldn’t get enough of Harry. Perhaps it was the knowledge that they weren’t going to be alone in the house any longer starting soon enough, or perhaps it was just the fact that his husband remained the sexiest creature Draco’d ever laid eyes on, but whatever it was, Draco really just couldn’t keep his hands off Harry. It was almost like being a newlywed again, so vigorous had their sex life become.

“I, erm, well that is,” Harry waffled, “you know, it’s not like...I mean, I’m not _complaining_ or anything.”

Draco quirked his eyebrows at Harry and then leaned in again. “I know you’re not complaining, Potter. Because good boys don’t complain about their rewards,” he whispered raggedly in Harry’s ear.

“Oh fuck, Malfoy!” Harry hissed, as Draco ever so slyly slid his left hand under the table to rest on Harry’s inner thigh.

“Shhhh, don’t make a scene, sweetheart,” Draco admonished quietly, but with obvious affection. He picked up his fresh wine glass and held it in his right hand, swirling the red liquid and pretending to regard it seriously. “We wouldn’t want anyone to know just how badly Harry Potter needs to be taken in hand, do we?”

“Mmmph,” was Harry’s elegant response. He’d raised a fist to his mouth and stuffed a few fingers between his lips, attempting to muffle his obvious delight when Draco had grazed his own fingers over the bulge in Harry’s trousers.

“Do you know,” Draco then continued, as casual as he pleased, while lightly stroking over Harry’s obviously growing erection, trapped as it was behind his clothes, “that from the second you put on these awful jeans of yours, I wanted to rip them off of you?”

“Damnit, Draco, someone’s going to notice,” Harry gritted out from around his knuckles.

“Not if you behave,” Draco said lightly. He glanced at Harry then, though, and added, meaningfully, “if you _want to_ behave.” Because that was one of the most important things about their scenes, especially when they played in public or semi-public like this. Draco loved Harry and wanted to keep him safe, and Harry knew that he always had an out, especially at times like this.

Harry exhaled shakily, but he was smiling, as he said, “I want to behave, Malfoy.”

Relieved, Draco swallowed hard against his own growing arousal and concentrated on projecting as much calm as he could when he replied, “I had thought so. Now how about I finish telling you about these absolutely wretched jeans of yours?” He punctuated it with a very telling squeeze of Harry’s cock.

Harry let out a soft whine, but nodded his head. “Please...yes, tell me about them.”

“Where was I?” Draco asked, affecting nonchalance as he moved his hand upward just enough to fumble at the button and zip of Harry’s flies.

“You were saying how you wanted to--fuck,” Harry spat, as Draco carefully wrenched his flies open, “to, ah, to rip them off me.”

“Exactly,” Draco said, only barely managing to keep from moaning, when he found that Harry hadn’t put on any pants. “Fuck me, you’re such a slag for it, aren’t you? You wanted to be ready right away for me when I got those jeans off you.”

“Mmhmm,” Harry replied, nodding a bit more frantically perhaps than he should have, if he wanted to anyone from guessing what they were up to. “I always want to be ready for you.”

“Of course you do,” Draco said, as he wrapped his hand around Harry’s cock and began slowly to stroke him, keeping his motions economical and swiping his thumb liberally over the head. “You want to be ready for me because you’re such a good little slag. You want to make sure that your perfect little arse is always at my disposal...because it’s mine, isn’t it?”

“Yes!” Harry said. His hips bucked up once, so Draco stopped stroking him and fixed him with a look. “Sorry,” he added, sounding not at all apologetic. He took a deep, steadying breath and then nodded to let Draco know he was ready to continue.

Draco resumed stroking him, picking up speed, but only just, and applying a bit more pressure. “So good for me, Potter, always so good for me. With that absolutely perfect fuckable arse that’s all mine. Merlin, the things I want to do to it. The things I want to do to _you_ , right now, right here, in front of this whole fucking pub, just to show them all that you’re mine.”

“Wha-what do you want to d-do to me?” Harry stammered. His eyes fell closed for a moment, but he opened them again, though it seemed a bit like a struggle. His pupils were dilated and his cheeks were flushed, but Draco supposed to anyone watching it could have been because of the heat and low-light of the room. But Draco knew...he alone knew the real reason. “Please,” Harry whispered. “Tell me.”

Draco could never say no to that face. “I want to bend you over this table and eat your arse until you can’t remember your own name,” he began, growling it into Harry’s ear and forcing him to listen to every single filthy word, as he began to stroke Harry at a brutally slow pace, wringing every last bit of sensation out of his cock. “Then I want to spank you until that perfect arse is all hot and red. I want to grab handfuls of it and bury my face there again until you’re just begging me to fuck you, but I still won’t do it. I still won’t give you want you want because I’m not ready yet.”

“Oh god, Malfoy, please,” Harry whimpered. His hands came up to grip the table’s edge. “Please, yes, I want that.”

“Of course you want it,” Draco continued. “You want it every single second of the day, don’t you? If you could live on a diet of my cock, you would, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!”

“Good because that’s what I want to do next. I want to flip you round and feed you my cock right here in front of everyone, and you’d take every inch, wouldn’t you? You’d swallow me down right here, with your arse on fire from my hands and your hole dripping and clenching and aching for my cock. But I didn’t give your arse my cock, did I? No, I fed it to your mouth because I wanted to, didn’t I?”

Harry exhaled sharply and nodded.

“Didn’t I?” Draco repeated, rubbing his thumb over Harry’s leaking slit.

“Yes, you did what you wanted,” Harry answered, his voice hoarse with holding himself back.

“I did what I wanted. I used that perfect mouth of yours instead of your perfect arse, no matter how much I wanted to fuck it. And I do,” Draco lowered his tone even more, barely above a whisper now directly into Harry’s ear, “I want to fuck it so bad.”

“M-M-Malfoy, I need to...I’m going to c-come,” Harry stammered. “Please?”

“Come for me, Potter,” Draco urged. “But be so very, very quiet.”

He jerked Harry twice more and then, suddenly, he felt Harry stiffen and then begin to go off. Like a good boy, Harry clamped his mouth shut and only made a few stifled whimpering noises that would be swallowed up by the noise of the pub, as he painted Draco’s hand with his release.

“You’re so good, love. Merlin, I’m the luckiest man on earth,” Draco whispered soothingly. “I’m so lucky to have such a perfect man in my life. I love you so much. You know that, right? You know just how much I love you?”

Harry managed only a weak nod and then, once he’d finally finished, he slumped back a bit against the booth and tipped his head onto Draco’s shoulder. “Fucking hell that was...that was something,” he exhaled.

Draco discreetly shook his hand beneath the table, flinging most of Harry’s release onto the ground and then brought it back up. “Would you be a lamb?” he asked.

Harry chuckled gently and flicked a cleaning charm, before taking Draco’s formerly filthy hand and bringing it to his lips for a kiss. “I love you so very much,” he said. “You absolute perv.”

“That I am, and I make absolutely no apologies for it,” Draco replied, turning his head a bit and pressing a kiss to Harry’s temple. Merlin, it felt good to make a nice memory in this place, didn’t it?


	4. Spanking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the party winds down, the boys remember that The Three Broomsticks is also an inn, and they decide to take advantage of that fact.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured kink is **spanking**.

Harry lifted the frosty mug to his lips and drained about half of it in one long pull. The earlier… _exertions_ with Draco had left him quite thirsty, and he’d lost count of what number he was on. Granted, it was merely butterbeer that he was drinking, having switched over from ale when the parade of people wanting to talk to him discovered their table thereby causing Draco to decide to polish off a bottle of the red wine on his own. He didn’t mind being the sober one and making sure they were able to Apparate safely home. Draco gave him so much--had given him so much even today already--and Harry was always happy to repay the favor.

“And then,” Hermione was saying, gesticulating wildly, “Minkus tried to tell me that he’d already reprinted the reports, but they were still in Helvetica, and I just...well, you all know how I feel about _Helvetica_.”

“I can’t recall ever meeting anyone as passionate about fonts as you, Hermione,” Blaise teased.

“Yes you have,” Ginny said. “You’ve met my brother.”

“Oi!” Ron interjected, “Percy’s way worse, I’ll thank you.”

“My hero, always coming to my defense,” Hermione replied, with a roll of her eyes.

“That’s what I’m here for,” Ron said, before he leaned over and laid a smacking kiss on her cheek. Hermione swatted at him, but looked pleased nonetheless.

“Merlin, the pair of you are hideous. I’m going to lose my supper,” said Blaise, turning first to Ginny, who smirked at him, then to Luna, who smiled dreamily back at him. “We’re not that hideous, are we?”

“We’re all fucking hideous,” Draco answered, before either of them could. He dropped the hand not holding his wine glass below the table and clamped onto Harry’s knee. Harry’s breath hitched in his throat, but he was fairly certain he managed to avoid blushing, and thankfully, Draco’s hand didn’t stray. “We’re all disgustingly, revoltingly, hideously in love and we like showing it off to whomever will look at us.”

“It’s not hideous,” Luna countered. “It’s wonderful!”

“It’s pretty great,” Harry chimed in. He turned his head and smiled at his husband, and Draco rolled his eyes in response. He tempered it, however, by leaning closer to capture Harry’s lips in a kiss--appropriate for company, but only just.

“Ugh, hideous,” Blaise called.

“Totally agree, absolutely hideous,” Ginny said. “Disgusting, full stop, no one wants to see that, put it away!” She laughed brightly, though, and picked up and tossed a few peanut shells across the table at them.

Draco seemed to take the comments as a challenge because now he did slide his hand up a little bit on Harry’s thigh and kissed him a bit harder. Harry heard the groans from their friends, but, well, as decidedly inappropriate as it might have been, he didn’t actually care all that much. Kissing Draco warmed him from the inside out--much more so than the butterbeer he was drinking.

After a moment, Draco pulled back, tugging gently with his teeth on Harry’s bottom lip, popped up just a bit to land a kiss on the top of Harry’s nose, and then turned back to the table looking like the cat that got the cream. “I’m sorry, what were you all on about?” he asked, all faux innocence.

“You’re such an arse, Malfoy,” Ron groaned.

Harry flushed lightly and tugged a hand through his hair. “He really is an arse,” he replied, knowing that he was probably going to pay for it later. (Hell, he was actually rather counting on paying for it later.) Not surprisingly, Draco turned and glared at him, as he pinched his inner thigh, and Harry did his level best not to flinch too much. The fact that he liked it was probably not lost on Draco either.

“I’m an arse,” Draco then said, “that you decided to marry and have a--”

“--a hideous public display of our love with,” Harry quickly interrupted Draco. Draco furrowed his brow, but then realized what he’d almost said, and leaned over to whisper a ‘good catch, sorry,’ in his ear.

They had decided to wait until Christmas to tell everyone the news about the baby. A big announcement to everyone seemed much more efficient than having to run around telling individuals and small groups. Besides, Molly would probably send an army of Howlers if ever she discovered she hadn’t been the first to know about her newest grandchild; Harry was still a bit scarred from the reaming he’d received when he’d casually dropped the fact that he and Draco were getting married by complaining about the way his hair looked in their recently-taken engagement photos--he’d been yelled at, but he’d also got tea and a cranberry orange scone, so it wasn’t a total disaster.

“To hideous arseholes and the people that love them,” toasted Blaise, raising his near-empty tumbler of scotch.

They all raised their glasses in a chorus of _hear, hear_ s and _to hideous arseholes_ es, but when Harry looked across the table as he lifted his butterbeer back to his lips to finish it off, he caught Hermione’s eye. She raised a brow at him, and he gave a discreet shake of his head. His lips twitched into a smile though, quite against his will, and her eyes widened. She opened her mouth to say something, but appeared to think better of it, and simply nodded once, eyes lit up with delight.

“So that’s Granger cottoned on, then,” Draco suddenly murmured in Harry’s ear.

“She’ll keep the secret,” Harry replied under his breath.

“Too clever by half that one,” he said.

“Brightest of our age.”

“Dear Merlin, they’re whispering sweet nothings again--oi!” Ron waved his hand about the table, drawing Harry and Draco’s attention back. “Get a room, why don’t you, before we all lose our stomachs?” He had a bright grin on his face, though, and shot an entirely unsubtle wink in their direction.

Harry made to retort, but then he felt Draco’s hand slither over his inseam and upward ever so slightly into dangerous territory again. He flicked a glance to his side to see Draco looking thoughtful.

“You know, this place does have rooms for rent…” Draco trailed off then, lips curving up wickedly.

“Aw fuck me,” Ron groaned, dropping his head to the table with an audible thunk. “Now I’m giving them _ideas_.”

“I wonder if there’s any vacancies--”

“--bloody hell!” Ron cried out.

“Be nice to Ron, Draco,” Harry said teasingly, before swallowing hard against a whimper, as Draco’s hand dipped into the vee of his groin and squeezed gently.

“We could certainly call it an evening at this point,” Draco continued, as if he hadn’t heard. “Harry, go and have a word with Madam Rosmerta.”

“Malfoy’s not wrong, actually,” said Hermione, obviously taking pity on her husband, though her expression was thoroughly amused. “We’re nearly due to relieve Chantelle anyway, and Rosie’ll likely want her bedtime story retold by you.”

“And we’d better be getting this one home as well,” said Blaise, indicating Ginny with a tip of his head, “as it’s just about time for the eleven o’clock Nutella and breadsticks craving."

“Hush, you,” Ginny said, even as she took his offered hand and got heavily to her feet, “I’m not nearly so predictable as all that...Merlin, although now you’ve mentioned it--”

“I’d got an entirely new jar this morning!” Luna said happily, sliding out after Ginny and then wrapping her arms as much around her as she was able.

“That is because you are extremely thoughtful,” Blaise said, quirking both his elbows for the women to take. “Now,” he added, addressing the rest of the table, “behave you hideous tarts, else I shall be forced to find new friends.”

“As if you could, Zabini,” Ron said, grinning and flipping him two fingers, likely only because Blaise’s hands were too busy to reciprocate.

“Always a pleasure, Weasley, always a genuine pleasure,” he replied, with a cheeky thrust of his hips, as it was all he could manage.

“You’re so vile,” Ginny was heard saying, as they headed off to the public Floo. “Why on earth did I marry you?”

“That’s precisely why, my queen,” Blaise responded.

“Merlin, help me.”

“For all that talk of hideousness, they really do take the cake, don’t they?” Draco said.

Harry smiled, as he watched Blaise hand first Luna and then Ginny off into the flames with care. Then, he turned back and said, in an exaggerated tone, “Didn’t you say something about getting a room?”

“Right-o, and we’re off then!” Ron said, slamming his hands on the table and practically hopping out of his seat. “Mate, Malfoy, cheers, I’m going to go home and pretend I didn’t hear any of that.”

“If you ask nicely, I might consider partially Obliviating you,” Hermione teased, as she ran a hand through to smooth Ron’s hair.

“You are a saint, and I don’t deserve you,” Ron replied.

“Truer words, Weasley,” Draco drawled.

“Good night, you two,” Harry said, laughing.

“Good night, Malfoy. Good night, Harry,” Hermione replied, with a significant look. “We’ll talk soon?”

“Yes,” Harry said, nodding back just as meaningfully. “We’ll talk very soon. I promise.”

Ron narrowed his eyes at that, but Hermione easily distracted him, and with one last wave, they crossed the floor and exited the Broomsticks, leaving Harry and Draco alone at the table again.

“All right, Harry,” Draco said, letting go of his hold on Harry’s leg and sliding out of the booth, “shall we then too? I’m quite ready for bed.”

“No, I don’t think we shall.”

Draco held out his hand for Harry to take, misunderstanding Harry’s reluctance. “Come on, if we hurry, we can make the next Portkey at the hub.”

Harry glanced up at him through his eyelashes and said, firmly, “No.”

“Harry, I...oh.” Understanding dawned in Draco’s eyes and then, a breath after, heat. “Oh,” he repeated, a whisper.

The wait for a room key seemed interminable to Harry, especially with Draco pressed up against his back and wrapped around him like a limpet, muttering filth in his ear. “Thank you, miss,” he said, when Madam Rosmerta’s assistant returned and handed him the key to room 208.

“You’re the only ones on the second floor,” she said, giving them a knowing look. “Just so you know.”

Blushing profoundly like a schoolboy with a crush, Harry pocketed the key and managed another soft thank you. Draco winked and chomped his teeth playfully, earning a saucy look in return, before he took Harry by the hand and practically dragged him towards the stairway and up to their room for the night.

“And here,” Draco said, once they burst into the room, and Draco’d got Harry pressed up against the door, “I thought you said that _I_ was the insatiable one.”

“You are,” Harry replied. With Seeker’s reflexes, he dodged Draco’s kiss, ducking his head and moving to mouth along Draco’s neck instead. “Nothing wrong with both, though, right?” he added, murmuring into Draco’s skin, before tracing a line up the elegant curve with his tongue.

“So very, very true,” Draco breathed, his head lolling sideways a bit as Harry found the sensitive spot behind Draco’s ear and began to nip and suck at it. “Merlin, I love fucking you. I wish I could fuck you constantly, and yet I still can’t imagine it would be enough.”

“And I,” Harry said, pulling back and staring Draco straight in the eyes, “fucking _love_ you.”

He grinned widely when Draco groaned, “So horribly cheesy, Potter, honestly!”

“What are you going to do about it?” Harry asked, playing the coquette again and tipping his chin down with affected shyness.

Draco’s lip curved up in a smirk. “What do you _want_ me to do about it?”

“Well,” Harry said, slipping away from the door and moving into the room proper. It was a small, but serviceable room--perfect for the witch or wizard who needed a room for the night or for a while--and featured a tiny bathroom, a small fireplace, a bureau, a writing desk, and, the only thing Harry cared about at the moment, a decent-sized bed. Harry made for it, discarding his shirt and undoing his flies as he went and then slowly and deliberately bent over and placed his palms flat against the yellow bedspread. “I don’t know if you recall,” he continued, keeping his eyes firmly on the bed, “but I believe you said you wanted to spank me ‘ _until that perfect arse was all hot and red_ ’?”

At Draco’s sharp intake of breath, Harry turned only his head, watching Draco over his shoulder. “I don’t know,” Draco then said, as he advanced across the room. “Do you deserve to be spanked?”

Feeling desirable and cheeky, Harry teased, “I don’t know, do I?”

Draco got his hands on the waistband of Harry’s jeans, but paused before he pulled them down. “Aren’t we a naughty one?” he stage-whispered.

Harry wriggled his arse and said, “We are.”

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, so very saucy,” Draco said. “For that, maybe I shouldn’t spank you.”

“Oh, please? Please, you said you would. You promised,” Harry begged.

Draco tugged down Harry’s jeans just enough to expose the top of his arse. The room was warm enough from the fire, but Harry imagined that the heat was really coming from the anticipation. He adored being spanked, whether he and Draco did it as part of a punishment-type scene or simply for fun. Draco just had such elegant hands, such beautifully-long and slender fingers, and the feel of them rapping down hard against the tender skin of his arse was incomparable.

“Please,” he whispered again, glancing over his shoulder once more and trying to catch Draco’s eyes.

Draco smiled at him and lowered Harry’s jeans the rest of the way. Without lifting his hands from the bed, Harry deftly stepped toed out of his boots and then stepped out of his jeans for Draco to then kick everything to the side. Then, Draco reached back out and placed his hands on Harry’s arse, just resting lightly and cupping a little. “Fuck me,” he said reverently, “how could I ever say no to you when you look so good?”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Harry exhaled.

“Anything for one who’s so good for me,” Draco replied quietly, punctuating it with a light squeeze of Harry’s cheeks.

Harry whimpered softly, feeling his now cock start to stiffen between his legs. “How many?” he then asked, when Draco let go and stepped away. He cocked his head again to see Draco removing his own clothing.

“Hmmm,” Draco said, as he folded everything neatly and laid them on a chair by the door. “Ten?”

Harry gasped. They hadn’t been able to make it to ten the last couple times they tried. Once they had tried using a paddle, but Harry hadn’t liked it and had used their safeword to end the scene, and another time, Draco had simply got overwhelmed with need and had had to get inside Harry after six strikes instead.

“Shall we try at least?” Draco asked, softer now, as he stepped up behind Harry again and ran a soothing hand along the length of Harry’s spine. “You remember we can always stop.”

“I know,” Harry said. Draco stroked his back once more, this time continuing over the curve of Harry’s arse and tracing the seam between his cheeks. Steeling himself, Harry then said, “Yes, please. Ten would be...would be really good.”

“Fuck,” Draco cursed. “Okay. Okay, my good boy, we’ll try for ten.”

Then, without warning, Draco reared back and smacked Harry’s left cheek.

“Fuck!” Harry echoed Draco’s curse. He hadn’t been expecting the first one so quickly or so strong--Draco usually eased him into it a bit--but Merlin, it was so good. The sting of it seemed to travel the entire length of Harry’s body and then settle firmly in his cock which perked up further.

“What was that, love?” Draco asked, fingertips tracing delicately over the red mark he must have made.

“I mean, _one_ ,” Harry answered firmly.

“So good, Potter. So very good,” Draco replied. “I know you can do it.”

The next smack landed on his right cheek, quick and firm as the first.

“Two!” Harry cried out. _Merlin, that perfect sting!_

The next three came in very quick succession, Draco only pausing long enough for Harry to call them off in between. Then, he stopped to lovingly stroke his fingers over Harry’s arse, tracing the shapes he was making. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?” Draco asked quietly. He stepped between Harry’s legs and leaned down a bit. Harry shivered as Draco rubbed his stiff cock over Harry’s arse, just once, from left to right and back again. “Do you feel what you do to me, Potter?”

“Ye-yes, Malfoy,” Harry whimpered. “C-can I...can I have more, p-please?”

“Of course you can,” Draco said, before he delivered two quick slaps upward from the bottom of Harry’s arse, making them jiggle and bounce.

“Mmmph, ah!” Harry cried out, sinking a little further towards the bed. His legs were trembling, but he held himself up still. “Si-six and--and--and s-s-seven!”

“How are you, love?” Draco asked, voice more firm than before. “Tell me, sweetheart, please.”

Harry took a moment to check in with himself and then said, “G-good, Malfoy, so good. Green. Green, still green, please, keep going, please--ah, fuh--huck! Eight!”

“Two more, Potter. Do you think you have two more?”

Harry nodded vigorously, no longer trusting his voice, except, fuck, he had to count, didn’t he? He had to count for Draco, he promised he’d count them out.

Draco reared back and landed a smack where the first had been.

“Nine!” Harry cried hoarsely.

“That’s it, Potter, you’re doing so well. Just one more. I know you can do it,” Draco praised. He then reached out and got hold of Harry’s cock, hard as diamonds and steadily leaking pre-come. He gave Harry a few firm jerks, leaning down over Harry’s back and saying in his ear, “I want you to come when I give you the last. Do you think you can?”

Harry moaned rather than answer and nodded.

“I think you can too,” Draco said. He pulled back then and, after what felt like an age, brought his hand down hard in the center of Harry’s arse.

“ _Ten!_ ” Harry cried out and let go, coming hard and rutting his hips forward to ride out his orgasm. His vision whited out at the edges and he only distantly heard Malfoy spewing out encouragements and endearments until, after he didn’t know how much time had passed, Harry dropped his chin to his chest and panted until his breathing felt like it was returning to normal.

“Merlin, you did so well, Harry. I’m so, so proud of you. All ten, all ten, just like I knew you could,” Draco said.

His tone was tight and urgent, and Harry could tell that he needed to come still. With a shaky breath in and out, Harry turned his head over his shoulder and said, “Go on, Malfoy. Keep going.”

“Are you--”

“--still green.”

Draco hissed out another curse, and his hands came up to rest on Harry’s hips. “Still green,” he repeated.

“Still green,” Harry said again.

“Can I...I just want--” Draco cautiously slid his cock over Harry’s heated skin.

“Yes, please!” Harry agreed, rocking his hips back gently.

“All right then, love, just like that, Potter, just like that, hold there for me, okay?” Draco asked. He then got a hand on each of Harry’s cheeks and pushed them together a little, Harry moaning from the heat and sensitivity, but loving it all the same, and began to thrust mercilessly and quick against Harry’s crack.

“I want to make you come, Malfoy,” Harry whined, high and tight in the back of his throat.

“You will, Potter, you will. Merlin, you’re so hot. You have no idea, do you? Fuck, that perfect, perfect fucking arse, you look so fucking good, all mine, all mine, my perfect little tight, hot arse.” Draco was babbling now, his thrusts going erratic, sliding out from along the crack of Harry’s arse onto his reddened cheeks. “Fuck, Potter, I am, I’m going to come, you’re going to make me, I’m gonna--nngh, fuck!”

Harry felt Draco take a half-step back and paint his release over Harry’s arse. His arms and legs felt shaky from holding himself in place so long, so he dropped to his elbows and widened his stance a bit. Then finally, after several long moments, Draco moaned and placed one grounding hand on the small of Harry’s back, gently holding him in place as he stepped in close again and tried to catch his breath.

“Fuck, that was brilliant,” Harry groaned, his words muffled even further as he collapsed against the bed. After a moment, when Draco lifted his hand, Harry shuffled about, climbing up onto the bed and rolling over onto his back to settle as best he could with his arse throbbing and tender from Draco’s perfect rough treatment. “I’m going to feel that for a day at least.”

“I did say I’d work you over good, didn’t I?” Draco asked, his voice sluggish, as he climbed in at Harry’s side, curling up against him and resting his cheek on Harry’s chest.

Harry managed a nod in response and exhaled a long, satisfied sigh. Draco had always been a man of his word when it came to their sex life, no matter how they played. If he promised to take care of Harry, Harry knew that he’d be well taken care of, in whatever form that took: a mind-blowing orgasm, being held until he stopped trembling, or, well, both even. Draco knew exactly what Harry liked, what he wanted, and most importantly, what he needed, and when he promised to give it to Harry, he delivered. Tonight was just the latest in a long series of Draco telling Harry what was going to happen and then making it happen.

Except that Draco hadn’t rimmed him until he’d forgotten his own name.

Admittedly, he still came not once, but twice tonight, and both times had been incredible. They’d also been at it like jackrabbits since they’d first got the news, and on the whole, it had been deeply satisfying for both of them. Harry couldn’t really ask for more.

Well, actually, he could ask for more.

As much fun as they were having, and they absolutely were, Harry had noticed that, with the exception of their little semi-public display of indecency in the midst of the pub tonight, their play had been fairly standard. He wasn’t complaining, not in the slightest, but he also knew that there was a whole catalogue of their sexual likes that they hadn’t ventured into lately. Harry wasn’t sure why that was because honestly, if there was ever a time to get creative, it was when they were celebrating something so life-changing. (And hell, it wasn’t like they were going to be able to get up to much debauchery once the baby arrived.)

“Malfoy, you said a lot of things actually,” he then whispered into the darkness.

A soft snore was Draco’s only answer.

Harry curled his arm more tightly around his husband and closed his eyes, but sleep didn’t come right away. He thought...well, he thought he might have had a bit of an idea possibly...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna have to try and get the sex in first next time, I think. lulz


	5. Rimming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry demonstrates his extreme lack of subtlety when it comes to getting what he’s after, and Draco appreciates the Gryffindor approach most thoroughly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured kink is **rimming**.

Draco squinted at the order form, trying to make out the absolutely atrocious hand-writing. “Honestly, I am all for supporting small businesses,” he grumbled, “but precision spells exist for a reason.”

“Tell me you’re not joining Hermione on the font crusade,” Harry said around a yawn that he didn’t even bother stifling.

“It’s not just the font. It’s the print, for Merlin’s sake,” Draco complained, holding the parchment a little further away from his face.

Harry snickered, as he came around behind Draco’s chair and draped his arms over his shoulders. “Or is it that you ever-so-stubbornly aren’t wearing your glasses?”

Wrinkling his nose with distaste, Draco tossed the parchment across the table and snapped, “I don’t need _glasses_ , damn it.”

“Yes, you do,” Harry said, leaning a bit further over and pressing his lips soothingly to Draco’s temple. “And you shouldn’t be ashamed. Lots of distinguished sorts wear glasses.”

“That you’re calling yourself ‘distinguished’ is laughable, and I _do not_ need glasses.”

“You’re awfully grumpy this morning for someone who got his cock well and thoroughly sucked last night,” Harry laughed. He dropped a light kiss on Draco’s head and then backed off, heading to the stove to start breakfast.

Draco bit his lower lip against the goofy smile that threatened and then picked the order form back up. “Yes well,” he said, exaggerating his drawl for Harry’s benefit as he looked it over again, “perhaps I could use a pick-me-up this morning.” He cast a glance back over his shoulder, but then, when he noticed the state of Harry for the first time, he sat back in his chair and gaped. “Are you seriously going to cook us breakfast in the nude?”

Harry set the skillet on the burner and flicked his wand to ignite it. He shrugged his shoulders and said, “Well I know _you’re_ not about to get the eggs on, and I’m hungry, so...yes?”

“That’s unsanitary,” Draco said quietly, swallowing hard, as he traced the long lean line of Harry’s back, the round curve of his perfectly fuckable arse, and the whip-cord muscles of his powerful legs with his gaze.

“You’ve had your tongue up my arse on multiple occasions...I think you’ll survive,” Harry replied dryly.

“Not lately,” Draco murmured absently. He didn’t think that he said it loud enough for Harry to hear, but he definitely didn’t imagine the way that Harry stiffened slightly, his shoulders going a bit tense and his spine straightening a bit, before he relaxed again. Draco smirked then, when he realized what he’d said. “Not lately, eh, Potter?” he asked, more pointedly.

“No, I suppose not,” Harry said, airily, like he hadn’t a care in the world, even though he very obviously did.

“Feeling neglected, are we?” Draco dropped the parchment once more and rose from his seat. “Feeling a bit like I’ve been holding out on you?”

“No,” Harry said, eyes firmly on the skillet as he worked, cracking a few eggs in and tossing in salt and pepper. “I’d even say we’ve been a bit over-satisfied lately.”

“Liar,” Draco teased, as he stepped up behind Harry and placed his hands on Harry’s hips. “You are feeling poorly, admit it.”

Harry said nothing, but he did tilt his head just enough for Draco to nose in along his neck. 

“Oh, my poor darling,” Draco muttered, before pressing kisses against Harry’s neck and down along his shoulder. “I’ve just been so very rotten, haven’t I? I haven’t been giving my boy what he needs?”

“Draco...” Harry didn’t get much further than that, though, as Draco tugged him back from the stove and wrapped him in his arms. “Malfoy,” he then whispered.

“That’s my name,” Draco teased, as he backed up until they reached the table again. He spun Harry in his arms then and wrapped them around to rest over the curve of Harry’s arse, leaning his face forward and capturing Harry’s lips in a kiss.

“Draco, the eggs,” Harry said against his lips, even as he pressed himself closer.

Draco rolled his eyes and very deliberately pulled back, picked his wand up from the table to turn off the burner and put a Stasis charm on the eggs. “There, worrywart, the eggs’ll keep,” he said, dropping his wand back down on the table. “Now I’m ready to eat…”

“Merlin, you’re ridiculous,” Harry said, ducking his head, as if he could hide the flush traveling from his cheeks all the way down his body.

“Now, now, don’t be embarrassed,” Draco encouraged, raising a hand to tip Harry’s chin back up. “You’re the one who came down here all on display for me. You’re the one who looks good enough to eat.”

“Do I really?”

Harry’s bashful smile tugged on Draco’s heartstrings, and the teasingly smart retort he might have made died on his lips. Instead, he dipped his head to press a fervent kiss at the curve of Harry’s jaw and whispered, “You look perfect, Potter,” against his skin.

Harry gave a satisfied hum low in his throat, as Draco lowered himself smoothly to his knees, dropping kisses and dragging his lips along as he went. He leaned his hands back on the table behind him, leveling his cock toward Draco’s lips, but Draco only kissed him there once and then pulled back and shook his head.

“Ah, ah, ah, that’s not what my boy wants, is it?” he asked, raising his eyebrows as he looked up at Harry.

Harry bit down on his lower lip, as Draco skated his fingers along the thick muscles of his upper thighs. “No,” he then said and ran his tongue over to soothe the bite.

“No, I didn’t think so,” Draco replied, palming Harry’s hips and twisting gently until Harry got the message and turned around. “There’s my poor, sweet, neglected boy,” he added hungrily, once Harry had got his hands flat on the table and presented himself.

“Please,” Harry asked, spreading his legs a bit wider.

Draco scooted forward on his knees a bit until he was closer and then reached up and prised Harry’s arse-cheeks apart. Without wasting any time at all, he leaned in and used just the tip of his tongue to trace a thin circle around the furled muscle. Surprised by the peppermint he tasted, Draco pulled back and said, “Harry, what--?”

“--it’s edible,” Harry interrupted, and Draco could see the flush of heat spreading down Harry’s back. “It’s from that...you know, that new shop in Hogsmeade? I thought maybe…”

Draco chuckled low in the back of his throat. “You thought you’d make it all pleasant for me, hm?” he asked, before gently scraping his teeth over the meat of Harry’s left cheek. “You thought you’d parade around the house naked and get yourself all prepared for me so that all I’d want to do was get down on my knees and eat you out. Isn’t that right?” He then bit down gently and soothed the spot with his tongue, smiling at Harry’s hissed exhalation of pleasure.

“M-might ha-have done,” Harry managed, wriggling a little as Draco repeated the bite-and-soothe on his other cheek. “Did I-- did I do good?”

“So good, Potter,” Draco assured him, taking pity on his boy now and parting his cheeks again. “I’m very pleased with you.”

“Thank you,” Harry breathed.

Draco got his lips around Harry’s rim and, with no further pretense, gently suckled it, smiling a little at the peppermint taste, now that he was prepared for it.

“Nyungh--fff--uuuuck,” Harry cried out, tipping forward more and hands scrabbling for purchase on the table.

Huffing a laugh, Draco quipped, “You know I don’t like to fuck on an empty stomach. Let me finish eating first.”

“You’re fucking terrible,” Harry replied, but shut up quite quickly as Draco sucked his rim again, a little less gently this time. “Fuck, fucking, fu--huck!”

“So eager,” Draco teased, before he flicked his tongue around the nerve-sensitive rim, drawing a circle with kittenish little licks.

Harry squirmed, but managed to lift one hand and get it behind himself to rest on Draco’s head, supporting himself heavily on just the other arm. “Just like that, Malfoy, please,” he begged.

His husband always begged so prettily, it was a wonder that Draco could ever deny him anything. He flattened his tongue against Harry’s rim, dragging it more firmly around the tight circle, before flicking it rapidly again in the way he knew Harry liked best.

“Hunhh--nnngh, more, please,” Harry moaned.

Draco started to fuck the tip of his tongue inside Harry, feeling Harry squirm and twitch and gasp with every movement. He could feel his own cock beginning to fill, and he reached down to press the heel of his hand against it, staving off his arousal as best he could. One of his favorite things to do was get Harry off while denying his own release--the anticipation of what would inevitably come later made the denial all the more fulfilling.

He then reached up between Harry’s spread legs and took hold of his cock. Harry very rarely got off from rimming alone, needing that extra stimulation on his cock, but Draco didn’t mind. He just wanted Harry to feel good. It’s all he ever wanted, really.

“Ye--yesssss,” Harry hissed, trying to simultaneously fuck into Draco’s hand and push back into Draco’s mouth. Draco kept up a relentless torrent of tracing his tongue over Harry’s rim, lapping at the hot, pepperminty taste, until Harry’s legs began to tremble. “Fuck, I love you. I love you so, so fucking much!”

It took only a few more firm strokes and then Harry was coming with Draco’s tongue buried in his arse. He slammed a hand down on the tabletop and cried out with a long groan, his hips humping forward of their own accord, fucking the air as he shot out his release. Draco pulled back and petted lightly over his arse and upper thighs, murmuring endearments that he knew Harry wouldn’t even hear over the rush of blood and endorphins.

“Merlin’s scraggly beard,” Harry breathed after a long moment, his head hung low and his legs clearly gone boneless from the way he sagged forward against the table, “that was everything.”

“Would you expect anything less than my best?” Draco asked hoarsely.

Harry shook his head and then let out a yelp when Draco surprised with him a firm spank.

“Clean the table while I go clean my teeth, would you?” Draco then said teasingly, as he stepped back and really took in the sight of his effect on Harry.

Harry waved a hand behind him and panted out something that sounded like ‘yes, sir,’ which almost made Draco want to stay, but instead, he gave Harry’s arse one last little pat and then left the kitchen to jog up to the master bathroom.

A few minutes later, when Draco came back from the bathroom after cleaning his teeth, he found Harry back at the stove making breakfast casual as you please. He hadn’t even Summoned a robe, the cheeky thing. “So unsanitary,” Draco couldn’t help saying, as he paused, leaning in the doorway.

“You’ll survive,” Harry replied, amused.

“We feeling better then?”

“Much, thank you. Oh! This fell by the way,” Harry said, not looking up from the bacon, but holding out a piece of parchment for Draco to take. “What are you planning on ordering from,” Harry flicked a glance at the order form’s heading and read out, “Sylvia Llewellyn’s Elegant Timepieces?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Draco answered, as he snatched the form back and resumed his seat at the kitchen table. He Summoned his quill which had also fallen to the ground during Harry’s vigorous table-pounding.

“I thought you already bought my gift.”

“I have already bought your gift. This is actually a, erm, gift for both of us,” Draco said, swallowing against an unexpected bit of nerves.

Harry cocked his head, considering. “Oh wait, isn’t this the shop where we got the big clock?” he asked, turning from the stove then to look through the kitchen door into the living room where their large family clock sat on the fireplace mantle. Both hands were currently pointed straight up at _HOME_.

“It is,” Draco said cagily.

“Does it need repairing or something?” Harry turned back. “It seems fine to me.”

Draco shook his head. “No, no it is fine, there’s nothing wrong with it except...well I was thinking that we should order another hand. For, erm…”

Harry’s eyes lit up with understanding. “Oh, yes, of course, absolutely!” he exclaimed. Draco then quickly found himself with a lapful of his husband, who pulled him in for a hungry kiss. “It’s almost unbearable how much I love you,” he said, pulling away only just.

Draco grinned. “Likewise, I’m sure,” he replied cheekily.

Harry merely rolled his eyes and leaned in for another long kiss. The eggs burned after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to those following along - an unexpected migraine and a busy night got me off pace. :( But I hope to catch up shortly. <3


	6. Sex Toys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A shopping trip provides the perfect venue for Draco to get a taste of his own dominance. Also paparazzi and celebrity journos are the actual human worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured kink is **sex toys**. Also safewords are used here to end a scene early, so take care there. :D Finally, Some of you make recognize the scene in this chapter from another of my fics. Although the D/s part of the relationship is the same dynamic, this fic and the ‘You Are the One’ series occupy different universes. :D I am just a big BIG fan of this particular magical kink. Sorry not sorry.

“You’re quite sure about this?” Harry asked again. Draco had already confirmed that he was absolutely fine with the scene at least five times that morning, twice of which were after Harry had slowly and carefully opened him up with slick fingers and worked the plug snugly into his arse, but Harry had always tended to be the more cautious of the two when they played with switching their usual dynamic.

The thing was, Harry was more than perfectly content to submit to Draco in (or outside…) the bedroom. He really liked the feeling of surrendering his control and trusting that Draco would buoy him up, take care of him, and shoulder all the responsibility for however long Harry was under. It was a hard-won trust between him and Draco, and being able to so freely submit under that trust validated and strengthened their bond. Harry loved it, and he loved Draco; it was simple, really.

And Draco played his part beautifully to Harry. He was creative and clever, and he seemed always to know exactly what Harry needed. He knew when Harry wanted to take it a little easier, but then he also knew when Harry said he wanted to take it a little easier but needed to be pushed past his comfort zone a little. He was always considerate, always attentive, and always, without fail, utterly devoted to Harry and his pleasure.

Which was why he was comfortable switching things up like this from time to time, as it was really just an extension of Draco’s need to push. Draco sometimes wanted Harry to know how it felt to take that control during play, and as much as it gave Harry a heady sense of pleasure, it mostly just served to remind him exactly how much Draco cared for him. Because if what Harry felt when he Dominated Draco was even half of what Draco felt in the reverse, Harry couldn’t believe how much power swirled underneath Draco’s skin and what brilliant control he had to keep it in check and just how ridiculously much Draco loved him.

Draco heaved a put-upon sigh and rolled his eyes. “For the hundredth time, Scarhead,” he drawled, no doubt purposefully using the epithet because it both annoyed Harry and somehow made him smile at the same time, “I am absolutely certain.” His expression then quickly went wicked and, after he tugged Harry in by the lapels of his coat, he whispered roughly in Harry’s ear, “I want to know what it feels like to have your cock up my arse in front of all of Diagon Alley.”

“Hnngh,” Harry managed, before Draco let go and smirked at him. He swallowed hard against a dry mouth, cleared his throat, and then tried again. “Well,” he nodded and held out his arm for Draco to take, “shall we then?”

Draco ran his tongue along his teeth and then bit down on his lower lip cheekily. “Yes _sir_ ,” he flirted.

“Fuck,” Harry muttered, as he wrapped Draco in more securely, “I’m not nearly half as cheeky when I’m like this, am I?” They disappeared with a soft crack.

“Merlin, no,” Draco then said, once they’d reappeared at the Apparation point nearest the entrance to Diagon Alley. “You’re ten times worse.”

“I very much doubt that,” Harry replied, before batting Draco’s hands away when Draco tried to smooth over Harry’s traveling cloak. Draco narrowed his eyes at him until Harry sighed and flung his hands down in acquiescence. “You really do have all the sodding power in this relationship,” he added, complaining, but not all that seriously.

“Of course I do, Harry,” Draco said, as he flattened his hands over Harry’s shoulders, straightening out a few wrinkles.

Harry really did want to retort, but found he was smiling too widely for any sort of glib response to be particularly effective, and so instead, he merely let Draco continue to fuss over him until he was deemed presentable enough to walk through Diagon Alley.

To walk through Diagon Alley with an approximation of his cock up Draco’s arse.

“You’re practically panting, love, and we haven’t even gone inside yet,” Draco murmured in his ear before pressing a kiss to his temple.

“You’re really sure, right?” Harry asked a final time.

“Green,” Draco simply responded, before taking off ahead at a measured pace, no doubt getting acclimated to the sensation of fullness.

Harry sighed happily and then jogged to catch up. When they reached the brick wall, he got out his wand and tapped the correct sequence to allow them inside. Then, Draco took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Ready, _Draco_?” Harry asked, quickly glancing askance at Draco.

“Ye--hunnh!” Draco squeezed his hand a bit tighter as the plug vibrated in his arse in response to the command word. He exhaled softly and licked his lips. “Oh, you poor thing,” he breathed sympathetically, and Harry had to smile again. They’d only just got started, after all.

The wall opened to admit them, and together they walked through and into Diagon Alley proper. The shop-lined street was bustling with holiday shoppers and tourists, despite the relative earliness of the hour, but then it seemed everyone had the same idea that Harry and Draco’d had that morning. (Or, well, not _exactly_ the same idea...although who knew what other people got up to?) Taking advantage of the bright and clear, if cold, winter’s day to get some more of their Christmas shopping done seemed a no-brainer.

“ _Wheezes_ first, then?” Harry asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Must we?” he asked, even as he laced his fingers with Harry’s and tugged Harry gently in the direction of the joke shop.

“They’ve been swamped the last few weeks, and I promised Ron we’d give him an excuse to take a break,” Harry replied.

“He owns the sodding place,” Draco complained, as they made their way together through the hustle and bustle. “That’s the only excuse one needs to take a break.”

“Well, sure,” Harry said, pausing to hold open the door for a pair of what looked like recent Hogwarts-leavers, trying and failing to look like they were too cool to be excited about a ‘kids’ store’, “but at least this way, he can justify it to himself without feeling like a complete bastard… _Draco_.”

“Haaaah, hah, hmmm,” Draco flailed a little, and Harry grinned at him, as he latched onto Harry’s arm. “Right-o, yes, _Wheezes_ it is then. In and out though, eh, love?”

“Maybe later, if you’re good,” Harry said cheekily. He couldn’t quite pull off Draco’s raw sexuality with the innuendo, but he hit the mark anyway, if Draco’s expression was anything to go by.

“Yes, well,” Draco said, leaning in to speak into Harry’s ear again, “that is rather the point of this whole exercise, isn’t it?”

Harry laughed brightly. “And here I thought it was to give you a taste of what you put me through all the time,” he teased. He then caught sight of Ron leaned up against one of the shelves, supervising Gurmeet’s demonstration on the care and feeding of Pygmy Puffs for a small group of young children and their parents. Ron glanced up and, seeing them, raised his hand in a wave before he began to head over. “But yes,” Harry continued in a low voice, “it’s totally to get you primed and ready for me tonight, _Draco_ \--hiya, mate!”

“Harry, Malfoy,” Ron greeted, with a hearty slap to Draco’s back that made him hiss softly at being so jostled and stumble just a little into Harry’s side. Harry caught him easily enough, then slipped his hand beneath Draco’s traveling cloak and rubbed it in a soothing line down Draco’s spine.

“Weasley,” Draco intoned, probably grateful for Ron’s continued insistence on referring to him by his surname.

“Have a look of the place, will you?” Ron continued and gestured around the store. “And this is even before Hogwarts lets out for break!”

“Merlin, yes,” came Verity’s voice. “It’s going to be worse in a few weeks.” She popped up from behind the counter, looking suspiciously like she’d been trying to get a second of shut-eye in the lull between customers. Offering a grin and a greeting herself, she waved at Harry and Draco. “Hi, Harry...Draco, good to see you both.”

Draco made a strangled little noise, slammed a hand down on the counter and clenched Harry’s hand, just barely biting back a curse. He exhaled sharply.

“Bugger, Draco, are you all right?” Verity asked.

“Yeah, Malfoy, you look a bit...peaky?” added Ron.

Harry squeezed Draco’s hand gently and looked at him with concern, but then Draco said, “Good as _green_.”

Verity pulled a face and then laughed. “Isn’t it good as _gold_?”

“Is it?” he asked, not actually questioning and flicking a glance at Harry. It startled a laugh from Harry that he only vaguely successfully turned into a cough, and Draco smirked a little less than playfully at him. Feeling only a little abashed, Harry mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ and then Draco sighed and said, “I’m fine, thank you.”

“Sure? I mean, I know it’s a bit warm in here, but you’re sweating, Malfoy,” Ron said, leaning down and peering more directly into Draco’s face.

“Quite all right, thank you, Weasley,” Draco said tightly.

Harry casually slid his arm around Draco’s waist beneath his cloak and then wriggled his hand into the back pocket of Draco’s trousers. “Why don’t you go out and get some air?” he asked Draco. “I’ll meet you in about ten minutes at the bookshop?”

“Oh, perfect,” Ron interjected, before Draco could say anything, “could you pick up the book I ordered for Hermione? Got the owl this morning that it’d arrived, but I’m not sure I’m going to get a chance to get over there before they close today.”

“Of course,” Draco said sweetly. “Anything for my favorite brother-in-law.”

“That’s so sweet -- ugh, must you?” said Verity and Ron at the same time.

Harry just laughed and gave a gentle squeeze to Draco’s arse. Draco rolled his eyes, but his lips curved up into a real smile, and Harry somehow knew that he was already plotting his revenge--Harry was quite looking forward to it. “Go on, I’ll be there in a bit. See if you can find...you know what,” he said significantly.

They’d planned on getting a few parenting books, having prepared the excuse that they could be for Ginny, Blaise, and Luna as gifts if they ran into anyone they knew, or rather if literally anyone commented, as they were probably the most famous couple in wizarding Britain (with the possible exception of Celestina Warbeck and her fourth husband Gatlin Cahill--each of whose albums Harry had to remember to get from the record store before they went home today for Andromeda and Teddy respectively). But with the baby on the way, it was time for them to get a little more serious about being informed. They’d wanted it for so long, but now that it was actually almost here? They had quite a bit of work to do.

“Will do,” Draco said, smiling gently, before he gave Harry a saucy wink, nodded to both Ron and Verity in turn, and then headed back out of the shop and into the street.

“Zabini’s right, you two are something else entirely sometimes, mate, I swear,” Ron said, following Draco’s wake, with a shake of his head.

“It works for us,” Harry said, shrugging his shoulders.

“Must do,” Ron said, smiling. “Oh, bloody hell,” he then said, as the door opened again to admit a small stream of people. “Never a dull moment. I have to get back to it, and so do you, Veri.”

“I should be off after him anyway,” Harry said. “Dinner at your mum’s tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah, six-thirty for drinks--oi, Gurmeet!” Ron was already back in managerial-mode, walking off to the stacks. “Finish up that demo and get back to the register!”

Harry gave Verity his most sympathetic smile, which she returned gratefully, before he turned and left the joke shop. The bookstore was only a few down from _Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes_ , and Harry could see that Draco was only just reaching the front door, so he started off on a jog to catch up with him.

“Draco!” he called, causing Draco to stop and turn in the direction of the voice. He was too far away for the spell to work on the toy, but it was still kind of fun to remind Draco of the sensation. Draco waited for Harry to catch him up, and then Harry tugged him into a hug. “Did you miss me, _Draco_?” he asked, overly romantic and cheesy on purpose.

“You’re the worst,” Draco said hoarsely, shivering a little in Harry’s arms and not at all likely from the cold.

“The very worst,” Harry replied.

“Oh Merlin, no, _they’re the worst_ ,” Draco then moaned.

“What?” Harry asked, pulling back, but when he turned, he saw exactly what Draco was talking about. Three poor excuses for reporters who seemed to have studied at Rita Skeeter School of Journalism were rushing over, elbowing each other and fussing, each clearly looking for the best story. “Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered, bracing himself for whatever crap the sodding paparazzi were about to toss their way.

“Quick, before they get over here--”

“--Draco!” Marybelle Barleybrand of The Daily Glass screeched, “Do you have a comment about Magnus Nott?”

“Is it true that you and Nott’s son Theodore had a torrid affair during your years at Hogwarts, Draco?” added Flavinius Witherspoon of The Solar.

“Draco, did you lobby for Nott’s release?” shouted Herman Little, who probably should have known better, as he was from The Daily Prophet.

“What about the rumor that you’re reconnecting with Theodore, Draco!” Witherspoon tried again.

Under normal circumstances, Harry would have been outraged more by the so-called press’s blatant disrespect of his husband. When they shouted after him, he was always “Mr Potter,” but to them, Draco was unworthy of even that modicum of respect. But right now, he was concerned only for Draco’s safety and well-being. They had played this scene before, with Harry in control of the command word and Draco with the vibrating plug up his arse, but they’d never done it in public this way, and they’d certainly never done it within range of so many people paying so much attention to them.

“Dra--Malfoy,” Harry quickly stopped himself from adding to what must already have felt like an onslaught, “are you--”

“-- _ye-yellow_ ,” Draco whimpered in his ear.

When he pulled back, Harry saw how glassy his eyes had got, and while yellow wasn’t red, Harry decided he’d had more than enough. As Barleybrand thrust a Dicta-Quill into Draco’s face and smarmily asked whether or not Draco had a comment about Magnus Nott’s work-release, Harry carefully slipped a hand down the back of Draco’s trousers and wandlessly cast a _Finite Incantatem_. The moment the vibrations stopped, Harry knew he’d made the right call, as Draco sagged against his side. Harry tightened his grip, and then turned a murderous glare on the cluster of reporters. “This completely unauthorized ambush is over,” he growled.

“But Mr Potter-- Mr Potter, the people have a right-- Draco, are you having it off with Nott’s son, are you two in cahoots--” 

Despite how impolite it was to just Apparate in the middle of the street, Harry’d had absolutely enough, especially when he heard Draco’s failed attempt at stifling a moan of despair, and so he wrapped his arms around his husband and immediately Disapparated for home.

They landed directly in their master bedroom, and after a bare few disoriented moments, Harry raised his hands and cupped Draco’s face, looking him right in the eyes. “Check in with me, Draco, please,” he requested firmly.

Draco blinked sluggishly, and his breath was coming shallow and quick. “Yel-- no, wait, erm, re-- no, I don’t...I don’t know,” he struggled. His brow furrowed, and he looked so utterly disappointed with himself.

Harry was certain that Draco had never dropped into subspace during the scene, but he was clearly on the verge of a crash anyway, and so he ran his hands down Draco’s arms until he could grab Draco around the wrists, anchoring him. “Let’s get you into bed, and I’ll take care of you, all right, Malfoy?” he asked gently.

“O-okay, yes, please,” Draco replied, nodding.

Harry removed first Draco’s and then his own cloak, dropping them on the floor without care. He’d deal with that later. The most important thing right now was to take care of Draco, get that plug out of his arse, and soothe him to the best of his ability.

He’d never been on this side of it, but he had experienced subdrop and had crashed a few times before. There had been trial and error at the beginning of their relationship, mistakes were made and learned from, and boundaries were established, tested, and kept. They were constantly learning from each other. It was why Harry wasn’t worried, though, or rather, why Harry knew that he could handle this, could take care of Draco the way Draco had always taken care of him.

Harry brought Draco close to him then, just holding him in an embrace again. Draco, though a little taller than Harry, nuzzled his face into Harry’s neck and breathed in. “You smell good, Harry,” Draco sighed.

“I should,” Harry replied softly. “I’m wearing that cologne you got me.”

“I have such good taste,” Draco muttered.

“You sure do, sweetheart,” Harry replied. He pulled back a little then and looked Draco in the eyes. “How about we get you out of these clothes. Does that sound good?” Draco nodded, and then Harry carefully divested Draco of his button-down shirt, trousers, and pants.

Draco’s breath hitched in his throat when Draco got the trousers and pants down over his arse, but he said nothing. His eyes were focused on the movement of Harry’s hands and when Harry stilled, he looked up and met Harry’s gaze steadily.

“Can you get on the bed for me, Malfoy?” he asked, voice gentle.

“Yes, Harry,” Draco replied, nodding. He already seemed calmer, more sure of himself, as he carefully climbed up onto the bed. He waited on his hands and knees, head dropped down between his shoulders and breathing softly.

Harry crawled up behind him then and set to work carefully removing the plug from Draco’s arse. He paused every so often to stroke gently over Draco’s smooth skin between easing the plug out. Once it was free, he cast a cursory cleaning charm over it and set it on the nightstand, where he’d remember to take it down to the kitchen for a proper washing later. Then, he climbed back into bed and pulled Draco down with him, letting Draco curl up against his side.

They laid there together for a long time, Harry petting over Draco’s head, and Draco breathing softly against Harry’s chest, eyes closed and looking peaceful. “How about a nice bath?” Harry then asked softly, not pausing in his stroking of Draco’s silky blond hair.

Draco shifted a little in his embrace so that he could look up into Harry’s eyes. “That would be perfect,” he answered.

Harry exhaled, feeling the tension he’d been carrying in his shoulders finally loosen. “A bath it is, then,” he replied. “You stay right here all wrapped up. I’ll run the water and be back in a moment.”

But before Harry could leave, Draco reached out and caught Harry by the wrist. “How’d you get so good at this?” he whispered.

Harry swallowed hard against a sudden wave of emotion. With his free hand, he smoothed Draco’s hair back from his forehead, then trailed it down to cup Draco’s chin. “I learned it from you,” he answered honestly.

Draco closed his eyes, laughing softly. “I’m a brilliant teacher, aren’t I?”

“That you are, Malfoy.” Harry petted Draco one last time and then turned and left, intending to run the bath and get Draco in it before Draco even realized he was gone.


	7. Bathing/Washing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco enjoys a little more aftercare, and he and Harry make a plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The featured kink is **bathing/washing**.
> 
> Also, the plan now is to get this story to at least 10 chapters. This December ended up being way busier than I anticipated.

Draco luxuriated in his and Harry’s bed while he waited for Harry to finish running his bath, arms wrapped around a pillow in Harry’s absence. He felt much better, much calmer, than he had earlier when those bloody vultures had ruined the absolutely brilliant scene he and Harry had been playing.

The press continued to be a nightmare even this long after all the drama of his and Harry’s coming out as a couple, and while Draco could admit that he understood the public’s fervor for news about them, he certainly didn’t have to like it. The problem was that it was likely only going to get worse once they announced their adoption, which was definitely something that he and Harry were going to have to have a conversation about very soon. Draco didn’t want his child suffering the indignities of reporters screaming nonsense in his or her face, and he was certain that Harry felt the same way, but they were definitely going to need a plan.

It was for later, though, as Draco forced himself to get up and see what was taking Harry so long. His legs were still a bit shaky from Harry’s aftercare, but he managed to make it to the bathroom without incident. He leaned in the doorway and cleared his throat. “Are you drawing a bath for next week or something?” he asked pointedly.

Harry glanced over his shoulder and frowned. “I’d’ve come got you when it was ready. Just wanted the water temperature to be perfect.”

“Smart,” Draco teased, “as I’d absolutely have complained if it wasn’t.”

“Well, I believe it _is_ ,” Harry said, as he held out a hand for Draco to take, “so let’s get you all clean then.”

“Such a gentleman,” Draco replied, as he carefully climbed into the tub. He slid forward a bit so that Harry could join him, but Harry shook his head. “Not yet?”

“Not yet,” Harry confirmed. “Just relax a minute.”

Draco sighed and, as Harry filled a small cup with some of the perfectly hot water, tipped his head down to his chest in anticipation. “I love you,” he said, in a low voice.

“I love you,” Harry replied, as he lathered up his hands with shampoo and then worked them into Draco’s hair, eliciting a soft groan from Draco. “Every single day, I love you.”

“Horrid sap,” Draco managed to say, but his tone was disgustingly fond. “Oh, bloody hell, yes, love, just like that, thank you.”

Harry chuckled, as he massaged Draco’s scalp again. “Hush now,” he said, as he reached for the cup to rinse the suds out of Draco’s hair. “Let me take care of you.”

Draco closed his eyes and tipped his head back, as Harry poured the water over Draco’s head and smoothed the shampoo back to avoid getting anything in Draco’s eyes. He then felt the water stir around him, and he peeked his eyes open to see that Harry had reached for a loofah and dipped it into the water. “Vanilla scrub?” Draco asked. 

“Your favorite,” Harry replied, squirting some of the delicious-smelling soap onto the loofah and beginning to work it into a quick lather. “Now give me your arm.”

Harry proceeded to wash every inch of Draco’s body with delicacy and care. He dragged the loofah along Draco’s arm, worked the vanilla-scented soap into his skin and rinsed it clean, before moving on to his shoulders, his other arm, down his chest, his stomach, over his right leg and left leg, his feet, and then around to his back and arse.

As Harry rinsed the last of the suds off Draco’s skin, Draco realized he felt boneless and spent, like he’d come even though he hadn’t. He was hard, but it didn’t feel that urgent. It felt almost like an afterthought, like if he came that would be nice, but it would be equally nice to just continue floating here in the bath with Harry’s hands anchoring him to the world.

“Harry,” he then said. “Harry, can you…” He trailed off, lips pulling up into a smile when Harry leaned in and pressed a kiss to his temple.

“Feel good, Malfoy?” Harry asked.

“Yes, but, er, can you join me, please?” Draco asked, barely above a whisper, managing enough strength to lean up a little bit.

“Of course.” Harry climbed into the tub behind Draco, and Draco immediately slotted himself between Harry’s legs. He was warm and pliant, and he really rather wanted Harry to fuck him, which he must have communicated aloud because Harry chuckled softly and asked, whispering into Draco’s ear, “How about I just take care of you first?”

Draco whimpered softly and wriggled his bum, and while he only really succeeded at rubbing against the bottom of the tub, he thought he’d made his point rather clearly. “Seems a shame to waste all that preparation,” he said, as he pressed back against Harry, feeling Harry’s cock hardening against his lower back. “You’re half-there already, Potter, have at it!”

“So very demanding, you are,” Harry teased, even as he wrapped his arms around Draco’s chest and began to skim one hand down the length of his torso. “Halfway to subspace and you’re _still_ trying to get your way.”

“Yes, well,” Draco began and then forgot entirely what he was planning to retort when Harry’s hand reached its destination and wrapped around his cock. Draco hummed softly and let himself slide a little further down so that he could tip his head back and rest it on Harry’s shoulder. “You’re such a wanker,” he then sighed, as Harry began to do just that.

“Absolutely,” Harry replied, the word a low growl in Draco’s ear that made him shiver a little.

Harry seemed content, however, to wank Draco methodically, with the same gentle attention as he had when he was bathing Draco before. He worked Draco’s cock with long, sure, slow strokes, working the foreskin up and back enough to expose the head and swipe his thumb over it each time.

Draco had never really experienced subspace personally before, but if it was anything like the calm, gentle, floating sensation that was starting in his head at Harry’s easy ministrations, he could definitely see why Harry liked it so much. Draco thought that he was probably too aware of what was happening to him to truly have gone under, but damned if he wasn’t close and thoroughly enjoying it. “Harder, Potter, please,” he then asked, but it held no real urgency. He was sure that he could come just from the same attention if Harry continued on.

“Shh,” Harry hushed him. He firmed his grip just a bit and carried on at the same leisurely pace. “There’s my good boy,” he then added.

“Merlin, that’s so nice,” Draco returned, smiling lazily as Harry’s quiet praise wended its way through the welcome haze in his head. “I see why you like that so much, Potter. It’s so nice.” He was slurring a little, he thought, but Harry didn’t seem to mind.

“You going to come for me, Draco?” Harry asked after Draco wasn’t sure entirely how much time had passed. He was hard, and he knew he needed to come, but it didn’t feel particularly urgent still. “Do you think you can come for me, Draco? Can you be good?”

“Oh!” Draco gasped, arching up a little now into Harry’s hand. “Oh, yes,” he whispered, “yes, I can. I can be so good.”

“I know you can,” Harry told him. “I know you can. You’re so good, you’re always so good.”

Between one breath and the next, Draco came with a gentle exhale. He closed his eyes and let himself just enjoy the quietly cresting waves of his orgasm. Merlin, Harry really did know how to take care of him so very well.

“Thank you, Draco,” Harry said, and the pride and gratitude that colored his tone nearly made Draco want to cry.

“You’re so very welcome,” he replied, barely a breath. He then settled back against Harry a bit more and, as Harry drew his arms around Draco tightly, rested.

“You’re still up for drinks and dinner at The Burrow tomorrow night, right?” Harry quietly asked quite a while later, after Draco had roused from his post-orgasmic stupor.

“Mmm, yes,” Draco said muzzily. “And then we’re bringing Teddy home with us?”

“Right, for the week, and then we’ll have him again the week after Christmas.” Harry tightened his arms around Draco’s chest and pressed a smacking kiss to Draco’s cheek. “Merlin, I hope he’ll be excited about his new god-sibling.”

“Of course he will,” Draco assured Harry. “He’s a good lad, and he loves all his little cousins. Why shouldn’t one more be welcome?”

“I know, I know. It’s just a little different, though, with you and I, I think. I mean,” Harry explained, “Harry and Cousin Draco are going to be full-time parents to an infant, which means that we’re not necessarily going to have as much time for Teddy anymore, and he’s well used to us being available to him whenever he wants.”

“Hmm, yes, I suppose that makes sense,” Draco replied, considering, “but he’ll also be nearly twelve-years-old by the time the baby comes along, and he’ll be at Hogwarts for most of the year anyway.”

“Oh, yeah, true,” Harry said, chuckling a little. “Heh, we’ll be lucky to see him at all. That last letter he sent made it seem like he barely wanted to come home for the holidays, all the new friends he’s made.”

Draco smirked and laid back a little more in Harry’s embrace. “He’s a nutter then. I could hardly wait to leave for home for the Christmas hols.”

“Well, you were a spoilt little shit back then,” Harry teased, “so of course you wanted to go home and be surrounded by your parents and doting house-elves and presents and everything.”

“You’re not wrong,” Draco conceded, barely above a murmur. “And that reminds me, actually, we should probably talk about Christmas at the Manor.”

Behind him, Harry groaned and tipped his head forward to nibble at the sensitive skin behind Draco’s ear. “Must we?” he asked quietly.

“Must we talk about it, or must we go?”

“Both,” Harry sighed, before he swirled his tongue in a little circle and dragged his mouth upward to suck Draco’s earlobe into his mouth.

Draco gave a little hum of satisfaction, but he wasn't about to be deterred. “I know you hate going there, and Merlin knows I don't particularly enjoy making you do things you don't want to do,” -- Harry made a little scoffing noise in his ear -- “not anymore at any rate, but I’ve put Mother off too many times already this year, and frankly, it's Christmas, fucking hell, Harry, would you leave off a moment, I’m trying to be serious!”

Harry stopped lavishing attention on Draco’s ear and said nothing for a long moment, and in spite of himself and the fact that this conversation went in Draco’s favor every time they had to have it, Draco was nervous.

The fact remained that even though he and Harry had been together for so many years now, Harry and Lucius still did not get on together. Draco had resigned himself to the fact that his husband was never going to have much of a relationship with his father, and quite honestly, it didn’t really bother him all that much in the day-to-day. For all that Lucius had done to torture Harry and his friends, it would have taken a miracle for Harry to be able to forgive Lucius and forget, and as intrinsically _good_ a person as Harry was, even Draco didn’t blame him for holding out on this one. Harry and Lucius’s relationship could therefore most easily be described as icily civil, while his relationship with Draco’s mother was much more cordial, though admittedly, still not all that great. 

(It was like night and day compared to Draco’s relationship with Harry’s surrogate family. Mrs Weasley might have been cold to Draco at first, but she’d warmed up to him considerably over the years--enough that Draco now had a small collection of ‘Weasley jumpers’ of his very own.)

His and Harry’s family was about to expand, though, and for all their many faults, Draco’s parents deserved to be a part of their grandchild’s life. Draco wanted at least to be able to go to his childhood home and let his and Harry’s child experience what it had been like for Draco in the years long before all the horror and devastation: running through the gardens and chasing the peacocks, feeling ever-so-grown-up by having tea out on the veranda with Mother, joining Father in his study and reading quietly by the fire, and playing Hide and Seek with the house-elves.

At the absolute least, Lucius and Narcissa deserved to hear the news in person rather than by owl post or with the rest of the world by impersonal birth announcement in the _Prophet_ (or maybe Luna’s magazine, as Draco was rightfully miffed at _The Daily Prophet_ right now).

“Would you rather we went before or after Christmas?” Harry then asked.

Draco sighed, the tension relaxing out of his shoulders, and laid back against Harry’s chest again. “Whichever you prefer,” he answered. “Although, I’m sure if we made an appearance at the annual party this year, we could probably consider that our holiday visit with them.”

“Oh, yeah, I’d thought I saw the invite on your desk.”

The invitation had arrived earlier that week. On the outside, it depicted an almost eerie, mysterious winter’s night, with a big, bright full moon illuminating a raven, the snowy ground, and the Manor gates. Inside, it had read, ‘The password is _asphodel_ ’ in silver script, followed by the date, time, and address of the party.

“Mmm,” Draco hummed his assent. “I rang Mum after it came, and after she told me I was ‘losing my touch,’ she admitted that the theme was Edgar Allan Poe, which has absolutely nothing at all to do with Christmas, but she thought people might like a bit of mystery this year.”

“Your mum’s gone a bit batty, hasn’t she?” Harry asked, without teeth.

Draco shrugged against him. “Considering their usual crowd? I think the theme will be universally praised.”

Harry said nothing again for a while, just running his hand idly up and down Draco’s chest. Draco closed his eyes and gave himself over to the soothing sensation again. His cock slowly began to take interest once more, and he could feel behind him that Harry, too, remained engaged. Just as Draco was about to reach behind himself and begin working Harry’s cock, Harry let out a low chuckle and said, “If I go as the narrator, will you dress as the lost Lenore, then?”

Draco laughed and replied, “So you get to wear whatever you fancy, and I have to wear a gown?”

Harry hummed, shifting a little so that his cock pressed a bit more against Draco’s lower back. “I’ll carry around a book of forgotten lore, if that helps,” he promised.

“You just want an excuse to fuck me with my heels on in my childhood bedroom again,” Draco accused, though admittedly the memory was a particularly good one. (The theme that year had been famous couples throughout history, and he and Harry had dressed as Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI.)

“Do I really need an excuse?” Harry sassed, as he began to rut his hips in short, sharp little thrusts against Draco.

Draco laughed again and raised his arm to hook around Harry’s neck for leverage to press himself back a little tighter so Harry could get more friction amidst the soapy water. “You never need an excuse with me, Potter,” he said.


End file.
